Hello Hurricane
by Lady Charity
Summary: Sequel to "Táncol?" Elizaveta, Ludwig, Francis, and Antonio are forced to watch Gilbert slowly fade away every day. Chapter 18: "This is where the healing begins."
1. Sick Days

Elizaveta's heels clacked on the cold floor of the hallway—a lonely sound. She discreetly peeked through the small panel of glass on the doors into the classroom. No—this one had no one in it. This one had a class. Where was he?

She climbed up the stairs to the second level. The hallways were empty of people; it was during her lunch time. Everyone else was either in the commons or in their scheduled classes. All but two. Herself and Gilbert.

She entered the second story of the school and sighed. Where could he possibly be? It wasn't like he made a schedule of which classroom he would hide in every day. He stopped at wherever he felt tired of wandering. One day it was in the AP Euro classroom. The next day it was in the janitor's closet.

Elizaveta tried her best to look natural, as if she was running an errand or coming back from the bathroom, not wandering aimlessly in the hallways. The occasional student outside the classroom making up a test cast curious glances at her before returning to their work. Elizaveta quickened her pace, searching for the silver-haired teenager.

She finally spotted him in an empty Latin classroom. He was sitting in a desk next to the large glass window, staring outside as if mesmerized by the colorless sky. The door was slightly ajar, so Elizaveta let herself in. He didn't even notice her presence, or at least chose not to acknowledge it.

"Hey, you," Elizaveta said, standing beside him.

Gilbert glanced at Elizaveta and grinned. "Took you a while to find me this time, huh? I'm getting better and better every day."

"Oh, yes, you're a pro at it," said Elizaveta, sitting on a chair next to his. "So what, did you just sit here the whole lunch period?"

"I was finishing up my homework, but I got a headache," Gilbert said, kicking his book bag. Elizaveta frowned worriedly.

"Again?" Elizaveta asked. Gilbert nodded and cradled his head in his arms. "It isn't good for you to just not eat altogether. Your body needs energy."

"I don't feel like eating," Gilbert mumbled.

"You haven't felt like eating for a couple of weeks," pointed out Elizaveta. "You've visited a doctor, haven't you?"

Gilbert snorted. "Those exalted angels with stethoscopes and PhDs? All they will do for me is preach the creed of hospital bills and expensive antibiotics."

"What if it's more than that?" asked Elizaveta. "I hate seeing you like this."

"Relax, it's just a phase of some sort," Gilbert assured her, rubbing his eyes. He rose from his seat and leaned against the windowsill. Elizaveta followed him, putting a hand on his thin shoulder. Gilbert absentmindedly played with Elizaveta's hair.

"So how was that Government quiz of yours?" Gilbert asked, his voice thin.

"Easy," said Elizaveta. "That class is a joke, honestly."

"I figured," Gilbert muttered. "_You_ ate your own lunch, didn't you?"

"Reluctantly," Elizaveta admitted. "Maybe I should not eat lunch for all the days you don't eat lunch. Then you might finally swallow something down, or at least go to the doctors for help."

"Oi, that's not right," Gilbert protested. "It's not that I'm refusing to eat! I just—I don't think my stomach would welcome food too kindly. And I don't care for doctors. Who wants medical bills, anyways? Merry Christmas, here's a couple hundred thousand dollars you need to pay because you took a quick visit to the hospital."

"Be serious," Elizaveta said sternly.

"I am," said Gilbert. "I'm a big boy, Eliza. I can tough out a little cold."

"Do you really think this is just a little cold? You don't have a fever," Elizaveta argued.

"See? No fever. I'm fine." Gilbert rested his forehead on the cool glass windowpane, staring out towards the football field below. He could distinctly make out the two Vargas twins kicking a football in a frenzied game.

"You don't have to have a fever to be sick," Elizaveta pointed out.

"I'm fine," Gilbert muttered to the class. Feliciano and Lovino were now auburn smudges sliding around in the hazy green field. Were they Lovino and Feliciano? He couldn't remember what he was staring at earlier.

"How come Ludwig hasn't thrown you into the car trunk and driven you to the doctors yet?" Elizaveta asked jokingly.

"Hey now. He might be taller than me, but he can't just throw me into the car. I'm strong enough to stay planted on the ground."

"Might I remind you that Ludwig was able to throw you over his shoulder that one time when you refused to leave his room?" Elizaveta said saucily.

"I wasn't prepared. I was shocked to see all the strange magazines he kept in his closet," Gilbert defended himself. "Otherwise, West wouldn't have been able to do that."

"You keep on saying that," Elizaveta laughed. Her laughter died immediately when she caught sight of the look on his face. His face had grown a strange pale of gray and his eyes were glazed. "Gilbert?"

"_Verdammt,_" Gilbert hissed, his voice strained. He swallowed hard before stumbling to the trash can next to the door. He fell to his knees and clutched the side of the trash can, heaving for air before vomiting.

Elizaveta hurried to Gilbert's side, dropping to her knees and rubbing his back. Gilbert groaned before retching into the trash can. He coughed and sputtered for air, his knuckles turning sallow from gripping so tightly.

"Verdammt," Gilbert repeated through clenched teeth, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spat into the trash can and rubbed his forehead.

"Gilbert, you need to go to the nurse's office," Elizaveta ordered. "Don't even try to protest—I will _force_ you if I have to!"

"What good would that do?" Gilbert whispered. "She'll just send me home. I can't even go home—Dad's away again and Ludwig wouldn't be able to go home if I t-take the car."

"Please, Gilbert," Elizaveta begged, holding tight onto his shoulders. Gilbert breathed in and sighed.

"Fine," Gilbert muttered. He pushed himself away from the trash can. He tried to clamber onto his feet, but once he straightened his face grew ashen and he slumped to the ground, clutching his head and moaning.

"Gil!" Elizaveta cried. Gilbert heaved for air, his eyes unfocused and his entire body shaking uncontrollably. Gilbert squeezed his eyes shut and weakly shook his head.

"Scheisse…" he coughed before vomiting again on the floor. His fingers slid into his pale hair, digging into his scalp. He tried again to push himself off the ground, but when he lifted his head he let out a small cry before collapsing again.

"My head feels like it is c-caving in," Gilbert said in a pained voice.

"It's okay, I'm here," Elizaveta said hurriedly. "Come on—I'll help you up, okay?" She slung his arm around her shoulder and tried to pull him to his feet. Gilbert groaned and his legs gave out from under him, sending him falling to the ground.

"The room's spinning," Gilbert whispered shakily. "I'm trying to stand, b-but I feel like I'm going to—to hurl again."

"You'll be fine, trust me," Elizaveta urged. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. Gilbert seriously needed help, but how could he if he was too weak to even lift his head on his own? "Gill—Gilbert!"

Gilbert's eyes were glossy and dazed, as if he wasn't really in this world. Elizaveta shook his shoulder but he barely responded. Her blood ran cold with dread. She needed to find help now. She kicked the door open and crawled out into the hall.

"Someone help, please!" Elizaveta cried. "Anyone! There's someone sick and he can't move!"

"Elizaveta?" Antonio's voice rang out from behind her. Elizaveta whipped her head around and nearly gasped with relief. Antonio rushed towards her. "What's wrong? Who's sick?"

"It's Gilbert," Elizaveta said rapidly, her words running together. "He's sick. He's throwing up and he can't get up without feeling ill and he—he's barely conscious—"

Antonio burst into the classroom. He spotted Gilbert curled on the ground and quickly scooped him up into his arms without a second of hesitation. Gilbert's eyes were scarcely open and his breathing labor; he was like a limp rag doll in Antonio's arms.

"What should we do about—?" Antonio gestured to the vomit on the ground and floor. "Call for a janitor."

Elizaveta sped to the telephone hanging on the wall. She speed-dialed the janitor and shivered with worry.

"Please come to room two hundred and fifty-three," Elizaveta said quickly when the janitor picked up. "A student threw up here—yes, I know. Thank you." She slammed the phone back into the receiver and hurried to Antonio's side.

"Come on! What are you waiting for?" she cried. "Let's go!"

"Right!" Antonio sputtered. He and Elizaveta hurried down the stairs as fast as they can. The bell had run, signaling the end of the period so students were filing into the hallways. Students gaped at Elizaveta and Antonio as they pushed through the crowd, carrying Gilbert. Elizaveta didn't care—every ounce of her being was wracked with worry for Gilbert.

"What happened to Gilbert?"

"What's going on?"

"Oh my God, he's passed out—"

"Excuse me! Pardon me!" Antonio cried out over the crowd, squirming his way through. "Please move! We're in a hurry!"

Gilbert was slipping in and out of consciousness. He didn't have the strength to even lift his head up. Elizaveta gulped and quickened her pace.

"Bruder!"a voice yelled. Ludwig wriggled through the crowd towards Antonio and Elizaveta. "What happened? Is he all right?"

"Come with us," Elizaveta urged, grabbing Ludwig's wrist. Ludwig's icy blue eyes were wide with horror as he followed the others to the nurse's office. They tore out of the large mass of students conglomerating in the hallways. Antonio nearly sprinted to the nurse's office, leaving Ludwig and Elizaveta to scamper after him.

Ludwig wrenched the nurse's office door open before Antonio burst in.

"Please!" Antonio cried to the nurse. "Gilbert—he's really sick and we don't know if it's a fever or a flu and he threw up a lot and Dios Mio, did he fall unconscious—?"

"Calm down!" the nurse cried. She quickly led Antonio to the empty cot by the wall. "Put him over here."

Antonio carefully laid Gilbert down on the cot. Gilbert didn't respond; a thin strip of the whites of his eyes was visible under his eyelashes. He couldn't breathe properly; his breaths were hesitant and short as if he was afraid to take in air.

"What happened?" Ludwig demanded anxiously. The nurse nodded in agreement. Elizaveta swallowed, feeling the eyes sear her skin.

"I was just talking to Gilbert and then he started to throw up," Elizaveta explained shakily. "He couldn't stand up—every time he tried he would vomit even more or his head would hurt horribly. He was in terrible shape."

Liam pressed his fingertips together and rested his forehead on forefingers. Antonio looked extremely worried, his green eyes wide and constantly darting from Gilbert to Ludwig. The nurse swiftly went to Gilbert's side and checked on him.

"I should've made him stay home," Ludwig muttered to himself, closing his eyes. "I knew he was feeling unwell and I told him he should've stayed home, but he insisted on coming…"

"It wouldn't have kept him from getting sick, though," Antonio pointed out softly. "And if he was home alone when he got really sick no one would be there to help him…"

Ludwig flinched at the thought of Gilbert left alone and sick. Elizaveta cast a worried glance at Gilbert and the nurse.

"Has he had the flu recently or anything?" Elizaveta asked Ludwig.

Ludwig shook his head. "He's been feeling awful, but he refused to get any medicine. He hates taking medicine and I can't exactly force it down his throat." He swallowed hard and bowed his head.

Before Elizaveta could even think of something comforting or reassuring to say, Gilbert groaned and stirred in his cot. As fast as lightning, Ludwig bolted from between Antonio and Elizaveta to Gilbert's side. Gilbert blearily opened his eyes and grinned at Ludwig.

"Hey there, West," he mumbled. "Is it time to go to school already?"

"We're already at school," Ludwig said, frowning.

"What?" Gilbert said blearily. "But why was I—?" His eyes widened at the memory of what happened. He groaned and rubbed his forehead. "Don't tell me I—"

"—got terribly sick in school? Ja, you did," Ludwig finished, bending down next to Gilbert's cot. "Bruder—you have got to go to the doctors'. You can_not _deny that you are really sick."

"It's probably swine flu or something. I'll sleep it off," Gilbert sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"If it was really swine flu, then you would most definitely be on your way to the doctors," Elizaveta said sternly.

Gilbert bit his bottom lip and ran his hand through his white hair.

"It was probably just the stomach flu. I swallowed a fly or something," Gilbert insisted. "I don't want to go to the doctors."

"Gilbert, they can help you!" Antonio pleaded.

Gilbert snorted. "I can manage on my own, thanks. I'm not letting them near me."

"Bruder," Ludwig said firmly. "Dieses ist nicht wie Großvater."

Gilbert gave Ludwig a cold stare. "Wie würden Du wissen?"

"Vertrauen Sie mir," Ludwig said softly, Gilbert hesitated and turned his head away from Ludwig.

"Fine," Gilbert said quietly. "I'll go to the doctors."

"Thank you," Ludwig said softly.

Elizaveta let out a sigh of relief. She told herself she was glad that Gilbert was finally agreeing to go to the doctor's, but something inside her made her scared. The fact that Gilbert had to go to the doctors' in the first place made her think that this was going to be much more serious than she ever expected.

**Urgh, I wish I could've thought up a better beginning, but this is as much as my brain would allow. I have typed up the other chapters and they start off a lot better than this…**

**At first I was a little worried about posting this because I just posted a story yesterday about Germany and Prussia and no one read it or something and I thought, "Oh…I guess no one likes my writing…(emo corner)." **

**"Dieses ist nicht wie Großvater"** **–"This is not like Grandfather" (Those who didn't read Táncol? Might not understand OTL)**

**"Wie würden Du wissen?" –How do you know?**

**"Vertrauen Sie mir" –Trust me. **

**I'm attempting to make this story sort of allegorical to the fall of Prussia and the Berlin Wall event. Gilbert's sickness is at the moment sort of like the Nazis taking over where Prussia used to be and replacing its leaders with Nazi leaders. **

**Please do not use your reviews to comment on my lack of history or your knowledge of it -.-; . I know I will leave out major or minor points of history and I have done it on purpose, so I don't need constant reminders of my choice. **

**Please tell me if you want me to continue or not!**


	2. Through the Looking Glass

**(Guten tag. This is a test update) **

_Through the Looking-Glass_

Gilbert rubbed his eyes sleepily before continuing his task of counting the stripes on the dull wallpaper. How long had he been forced to wait? Sure, it was called the waiting room for a reason, but there was a difference between waiting and being held prisoner in a cramped, striped room.

"What time is it, West?" Gilbert muttered. For some odd reason, waiting rooms stifled everyone's voices even though there really wasn't any reason to.

"Two twenty-six," Ludwig answered. Gilbert groaned and leaned back in the dark blue plastic chair he was sitting on. They had been stuck here for a good forty minutes. Doctors certainly took their time breaking bad news to people.

"How are you feeling?" Ludwig asked.

Gilbert shrugged. "Tired. Whoozy. What do you expect?" He shook his head. "Don't look at me that way, West. I'm not some damsel in distress."

"Could've fooled me," Ludwig said, smirking slightly.

Gilbert punched Ludwig playfully in the shoulder. Ludwig could barely feel Gilbert's fist on his shoulder; his blows were much softer than before.

Gilbert gazed around the silent waiting room. There were worried families clumped together, glancing nervously at the door. Then there were the unlucky folks whose partners were called in by the doctors before them so they could receive the bad or good news first. They sat, twisting the hems of their shirts or bowing their head so no one could see their faces. There was a little blond boy playing with toy soldiers on the ground. He looked about eight years old. Gilbert frowned to himself—was the boy here to wait for his family or because he was also sick?

Gilbert quietly slipped out of his chair and crawled towards the little boy. The little boy paused in his passionate game of toy war and gazed up at Gilbert with bright blue eyes. He blinked confusedly at the teenager before offering a small smile.

"Hey there, little soldier," Gilbert said, sitting beside the boy. "What are you playing?"

The boy lifted up the toy soldiers to Gilbert's face. "My army is at war against the evil wizards that are taking over my empire!" he said excitedly.

"Awesome," Gilbert commented. "Where are the wizards?"

"They're invisible," the boy said regretfully, "which makes them a lot harder to fight. But don't worry; my soldiers are very strong and trained to fight bad invisible sorcerers."

"That's good," Gilbert said, nodding. "And are you the great commander of the troops?"

"Uh huh!" the boy said, beaming. "I'm General Luther, defender of the Divine Empire and conqueror of the evil invisible monsters!"

Gilbert saluted stiffly. "First Class Private Gilbert Beilschmidt reporting, sir!"

"We must defeat the evil invisible wizards together, Private Beilschmidt!" declared Luther, handing Gilbert a handful of green plastic soldiers. "Follow me! But you mustn't let them see you!" At that, Luther dropped to the ground and army-crawled under the chairs. Gilbert slipped under the chairs, following Luther wriggle his way through the small tunnel of chair legs. Out of the corner of his eyes, Gilbert could see Ludwig raising an eyebrow at Gilbert before burying his face into a National Geographic magazine.

"We won't lose, will we, Private Beilschmidt?" Luther asked as he pulled himself out from under the chairs.

"Of course not!" Gilbert proclaimed before accidentally hitting his head on the top of the chair. "This is the awesome and unbeatable army of the Divine Empire! We never lose! Victory will be ours!"

Luther's face broke into a wide grin. He pressed his back against the wall like a secret agent, his hands gripping on many plastic soldiers.

"Watch out," Luther said in a low voice. "The invisible wizards have spies all around. They might look normal, but they are actually _evil_."

"Scary," Gilbert said in a horrorstruck whisper. "But don't worry. I have friends on the other side that told us who's a spy and who is not."

"Really?" gasped Luther. "Who's a spy?"

Gilbert narrowed his eyes and scanned the room. Luther stared at Gilbert in awe as Gilbert scratched his chin contemplatively. He finally pointed straight at Ludwig.

"There's the spy!" Gilbert announced. "But you've got to take him down secretly and quietly because he's a really tough soldier!"

Ludwig peered over the top of his magazine and frowned at Gilbert. Gilbert gave a crooked smile and winked at Ludwig before returning to an anxious countenance.

"How do we take him down?" Luther asked fearfully.

"Follow my lead." Gilbert crouched low and crawled around the perimeter of the room. Luther quickly followed, staying close to the ground and keeping a wary eye on Ludwig. The other patients in the waiting room watched the two boys with lightheartedness, stifling amused chuckles.

Gilbert quietly crawled on the chair next to Ludwig, holding up a toy soldier armed with a rifle. Before Ludwig could react, Gilbert jabbed the spindly rifle barrel at Ludwig's temple.

"All right, you evil invisible wizard spy!" Gilbert said triumphantly. "You've been caught red-handed!"

Ludwig gave a sidelong glance at the toy soldier. The look on his face clearly stated, 'You're not serious, are you?'

Luther clambered onto the chair opposite of Gilbert. "You better spill your secrets, mister!"

"What secrets?" Ludwig asked. "Ouch." Gilbert shoved the rifle harder into the side of Ludwig's head.

"You know what we want!" Gilbert said. He turned to Luther. "Er, you tell him."

"Where is the king of the wizards hiding?" Luther demanded. "If you tell us, we'll let you join our forces and we'll spare you!"

"You'll never get it out of me alive," Ludwig declared before turning the page of his magazine.

"We're flexible! What about if we get it out of you dea—oh, you're good," Gilbert said shrewdly.

"It's either that or be prisoner!" Luther said warningly. "And we'll force-feed you sauerkraut and you'll have to clean all day!"

"That's more like a luxury for him rather than a punishment," Gilbert muttered. Ludwig smiled wryly at Gilbert.

Before Ludwig could even come close to spilling, the door swung open. All the tension in the room stiffened and made everyone freeze in their spots. A woman with blond hair stepped out with the doctor and rushed over to Luther.

"Mama!" Luther cried, hugging his mother around the waist. "What do the doctors say?"

"You'll be all right, darling," his mother murmured into his fair hair, hugging him tight. "It's not too serious. It's just a benign tumor."

"What does that mean?" Luther asked.

"We'll be able to get it out of you easily. You'll be better again," his mother assured him, stroking Luther's cheek. She looked up at Ludwig and Gilbert and smiled at them.

"Were you two keeping my son company?" she asked.

"Yup!" Gilbert said brightly. "He's a brave little soldier." Luther beamed at the compliment.

"Thank you," she said. "I hope it wasn't any trouble."

"No trouble at all! It was loads of fun!" Gilbert insisted.

Just then a nurse appeared at the door, her face frozen and unreadable. The same stone tautness fixed everyone in their position as if they caught a glimpse of Medusa in her adder glory.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt?" the nurse said. Her face barely moved when she spoke. "Would you come with me please?"

Ludwig and Gilbert exchanged glances. Ludwig gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before standing up and following the nurse out the door. Gilbert waved half-heartedly at Ludwig's retreating back. He felt his stomach churn and tore his eyes away from the door, urging himself to think of something different.

"Is he your brother?" Luther asked.

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "He's the most awesome little brother ever!"

"Is your Mom and Dad not here?" said Luther.

"Luther," his mother said sternly. "It's not polite to pry."

"Aw, it's fine," said Gilbert. "Dad's at a business meeting, so only West is able to take me."

"What about your mom?" Luther questioned.

"That's enough now, darling," said his mother.

"Can we stay for Gilbert, Mom?" Luther pleaded. "Until his brother comes back?"

"You don't have to," Gilbert said quickly. "It's all right."

"I want to play with you though!" Luther said genuinely.

"Luther, he already said it's all right," his mother said. Gilbert saw the desperate look in Luther's bright blue eyes that reminded him a lot like Ludwig's when they were younger. Gilbert smiled grimly before ruffling Luther's hair.

"Aw, you got me. Come on, let's continue our battle," Gilbert said, dropping to the ground. His head suddenly grew light for a moment but he rubbed his forehead to clear his mind.

The game continued for another ten minutes. Though Luther was cheerful and lively, Gilbert couldn't help but feel his innards churn and hurt with anxiety. It was like being brought to the guillotine and counting down the seconds before the blade dropped on his neck. He had no idea when Ludwig would burst through the doors or if the news would be good or bad. All he could do was attempt to distract himself. Sometimes it helped but every now and then he would stop in the middle of the game and suddenly remember the impending uncertainty.

Even though it was only a mere ten minutes, it felt like ten hours before the door finally opened again. Gilbert eagerly looked up at Ludwig and felt all the warm blood in his face drain away. The look on Ludwig's face made every ounce of hope shatter. Ludwig looked as if he had just fought a horrible battle and lost everything.

"Mr. Gilbert Beilschmidt? Could you please follow us?" the nurse said with the same perfectly blank expression. Gilbert hesitated before slowly standing onto his feet. Luther gazed at him with concern as Gilbert slipped out the door to the doctor's office.

"West?" Gilbert said quietly.

Ludwig kept his eyes glued to the floor. He silently gripped tightly on Gilbert's hand. Gilbert felt the lump in his throat tighten.

"Please sit down, Mr. Beilschmidt," the doctor said smoothly. Gilbert frowned at the man.

"I'm fine," Gilbert said stubbornly. "I won't be here for long, right? Just tell me and we'll be out of here."

"Gilbert," Ludwig said weakly. Gilbert stood defiantly next to the chair and crossed his arms.

"Sitting down won't make anything any better to hear," Gilbert said. "I'm going to be standing the whole time and I'm not changing my mind, so you better just spill now."

The doctor took one look at Gilbert and sighed. "All right, if you insist, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"Damn straight I do," Gilbert said loudly. The doctor lifted his eyes to Gilbert's; they were weary and seemed almost dusty, like abandoned marbles.

"Well, Gilbert," the doctor said in a calm voice. "You're not the kind who would want me to beat around the bush, so I'll just say it up front. Your case is serious. Whether or not it is terminal we are still not sure. The tests you received…it seems to us that there is something that has pervaded through your body and is weakening you slowly."

By the end of the doctor's careful and tactful explanation, Gilbert was collapsed in the chair, his head buried in his arms and his heart beating so fast as if it would never be enough.

Ludwig's arm was around Gilbert's shoulder, hugging him to his chest. Gilbert had no strength or desire to wriggle out of Ludwig's embrace.

"It'll be okay, Bruder," Ludwig whispered. Gilbert shuddered and swallowed.

"Of course it will," Gilbert said in a calm voice. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. Nothing can conquer me."

Ludwig's embrace tightened, nearly crushing Gilbert. Gilbert didn't care. He felt no pain. He felt nothing.

The two brothers didn't know how long they stayed in the doctor's office, letting the news ooze into them like a snake's poison. Words could've been said, conversations exchanged, but all Gilbert could remember was pushing open the wooden door to the waiting room and dragging himself in.

Luther, true to his word, had stayed long enough to bid Gilbert goodbye. When Gilbert returned, Luther launched himself onto the teenager, hugging him excitedly.

"How are you?" Luther asked. "Is it going to be okay?"

Gilbert hesitated before ruffling the child's hair playfully. "Of course! I'm part of the great army of the Divine Empire! Nothing can beat the Divine Empire, right?"

Luther cheered with joy and ran back to his mother. His mother looked into Gilbert's eyes and Gilbert immediately knew that she knew he was lying. Her eyes shone with sadness that forced Gilbert to look away. During all that, Luther was jabbering with glee because in his world, he only needed a surgery to put things back to normal and Gilbert was only going through a small virus.

Was it a crime to lie to a child?

* * *

Gilbert closed the door to his bedroom. The car ride back home was mostly silence. Every now and then Ludwig or Gilbert would try to add a chink to the quietness with small conversation, but they soon dissolved.

He leaned his head on the wall before sliding down to the ground. The curtains were pulled over the window and shut out any paltry sunlight trying to wheedle its way past the guards. Gilbert couldn't see very well in the dark room, only the occasion shine reflecting from his electric guitar or the countless photos plastered on the wall.

This wasn't supposed to happen to him.

Gilbert's heart panged at the small, selfish thought. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths to empty his mind.

Why did it have to happen?

Gilbert slammed his fist on the carpet, gritting his teeth. This was not how he wanted his life to run. There was no way in the world would he submit to a life of whitewashed hospital rooms and needles piercing his skin to sustain health.

How was he supposed to live his life to the fullest if it was so dependent on those self-proclaimed saviors in lab coats?

No matter how much Gilbert swallowed, he couldn't rid himself of the horrible lump lodged in the middle of his throat. He was shaking and he had not realized it before. He shook his head vigorously, desperate to clear his mind. _Don't be so negative,_ he thought. _You don't know what's going to happen._

That much was true. He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen. He didn't know if he could walk out of that hospital room scot-free or if sooner or later in the near future he would have to be strapped to a hospital bed for weeks, maybe even months. There was no telling if he would need surgery or transfusions or an epitaph.

Gilbert opened his eyes again and saw the wallpaper of photographs all around his room. Francis, Antonio, and Elizaveta were smiling down at him, their eyes searing into his skin as if judging him. Gilbert felt like he was suddenly crushed by a boulder.

How in the world was he supposed to tell _them_?

Gilbert tore his eyes away from the walls and buried his head in his arms. He tried to picture himself staring into his best friends' faces and tell them up front that he was seriously ill and there was no certainty. At that little thought, his heart immediately twanged.

It was impossible.

He couldn't do it.

Gilbert dug his nails into his arms. His breath shook and the room spun and Gilbert knew it had nothing to do with his illness.

There was no way in _hell_ was he going to shatter the glass. This was their senior year. They were supposed to be living every day to the fullest and only stress about college applications and entrance essays, not diseases.

He couldn't tell them.

Gilbert would feed them all the white lies they asked for, but he couldn't tell them the truth.

He couldn't bring himself to break the news to them. He had enough trouble trying to accept it himself. How was he supposed to force them to know the truth?

_You can't keep it secret_.

Gilbert glared at his reflection in the mirror, as if it was the one speaking to him. His reflection was a merely a silhouette in the blue room—a faceless, expressionless shadow.

What did the reflection know about his life?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

It was probably living in an alternate dimension, where it was free from any fear and had the perfect life. It was grinning down at Gilbert right now and laughing at him, laughing at the entropy and pain of his world and relishing its blessedness. It was clean, it was pure, it wasn't chained down with worries or guilt.

At the mere sight of his own reflection, Gilbert felt a burning anger inside of him. Why was he stuck in this chaotic world? What made his reflection any worthier of a perfect life? Gilbert's fist itched to drive itself into the glass and shatter the barrier. He wanted to take hold of his smirking reflection and drag it into his hell and force it to deal with the moaning and gnashing of teeth of this reality. He would stomp his foot onto the reflection's head and grind its face into the bloody dirt and scream at it, hurl words into its ear. "_This_ is the world you've been laughing at. Is it funny now? Are you still laughing? LOOK AT ME!"

Gilbert took a deep breath of cold air jolted back into the real world. The mirror was still intact and flawless as ever. The Gilbert in the mirror stared confusedly back at him. There was no alternate universe he could escape to.

Gilbert slumped down to the ground, pressing the heels of his hands onto his eyes. The reflection did not say it was impossible to keep a secret—it was his mind. He knew inside that someday they will find out. How was he supposed to hide his fatigue, his constant visits to the hospital, his absence?

_They're your best friends_, he thought tiredly. _You can say anything to them. You never hide things from them._

So why was he so afraid?

Gilbert glimpsed back at the mirror on the wall. His reflection nervously gazed back at him, equal in his anxiety and apprehension.

Why?

Gilbert raised his head slightly so that he faced his glassy twin.

_Why not?_

Gilbert slowly rose to his feet. His legs were shaking slightly and he could barely stand straight, but he willed himself to try.

There was no telling what would happen next.

Was that it?

There was no guarantee of anything. He couldn't give them hope or give them the dead truth. He couldn't tell them whether or not he would pull out of this or fall into a relapse.

He didn't want to make them afraid.

_Why would you think that?_

Gilbert tentatively crept closer to the mirror. His face was extremely pale and there was something deeper in those red eyes. Like ashes.

_Are you afraid?_

Gilbert swallowed and placed his hand flat on the smooth mirror. He could see the photos on the walls in the mirror. Little windows covering every inch of the dark blue wall. Could he open them and slip inside?

"I am not afraid."

His voice was quiet but strong. It did not quaver or crack in the ends. It was a thin, smooth stream of steel.

"I am not afraid."

The reflection's lips mouthed the same words and Gilbert could feel strength inside of him. Fear was a lie. It will not hold him down. Many things chained him to the ground, but fear will not be one of them.

"I am not afraid."

His voice grew more passionate. He placed the other hand onto the mirror.

"I am not afraid."

_Peace_.

Gilbert stood staring into the mirror, his hands smudging the glass. They slowly clenched into fists as he stared defiantly at the looking-glass.

_Tell them the truth._

Gilbert closed his eyes.

_I know._

There was nothing to fear. There will be no heartbreak. He will go up to them, tell them the truth, and that will be that. No tears, no dread, no doubt, because everything will be all right. Just a little break from ritual and then things will straighten themselves out over time.

Gilbert repeated this over and over in his head as he sank to his knees, clutching a handful of the dark blue carpet on the ground and fighting to breathe.

There was nothing to fear.

Nothing to fear.

Fear.

**Made a reference to Holy Roman Empire in here…I'm not even going to ask for you guys to look for it. I think it's pretty obvious. **

**Just to let you guys know, I usually update once a week on Thursday. I am considering updating twice a week. What do you guys think?**

**Pros—You'll get less waiting time in between chapters.**

**Cons—The story will end faster (Twice a week would probably last about two months. Once a week would be about three months)**

**Please tell me what you want. **

**The chapter title was taken from Lewis Carroll. **


	3. MerryGoRound of Life

_Merry-Go-Round of Life_

It was unusual to see the community playground so desolate. Why Gilbert chose here Elizaveta had no idea—she never actually remembered the playground on a normal day. So when Gilbert sent a text to Elizaveta telling her to meet him, Francis, and Antonio there, she was both curious and wary.

The sun hung on a thin thread in the sky, trembling over the horizon. It threatened to sink under the ground and engulf the entire sky in blackness. The chill of dusk made Elizaveta shiver and zip up her jacket as she wandered aimlessly around the playground. The soles of her shoes scuffed the rubbery ground—the sound was similar to the lonely click of heels in a lonely corridor. It only reminded her how incredibly late the boys were.

Elizaveta took her cell phone out of her pocket. It was eight twenty-four. Six more minutes until everyone else was officially late. She grumbled before shoving the phone back into her jean pockets. There really was no point in her coming early.

"Elizaveta!" She turned towards the source of the sound. Antonio was jogging towards her, his face pulled with confusion. Elizaveta waved at him and beckoned him forward. Antonio ran to her side, a puzzled frown on his face.

"There you are!" Elizaveta said. "Where are Francis and Gilbert?"

"No idea," Antonio admitted. "Late? Do you know why Gilbert called us here?"

"You don't know either?" Elizaveta exclaimed, surprised. "I thought that the Bad Company Trio was the one who arranged this whole thing."

"I certainly wasn't part of it if that was the case," Antonio said, shaking his head. "But I'm pretty certain that Francis was kept in the dark also. He was texting me constantly asking me why we had to meet here."

"This sounds like the plotline of a mystery novel," laughed Elizaveta. "Though I don't know why Gilbert would choose here of all places."

"I don't know," Antonio said. "I haven't been here for a while. I used to go here all the time when I was little." His eyes brightened. "Hey, this is the place that I met Gilbert and Francis!"

"Was it really?" Elizaveta asked.

Antonio nodded feverishly. "We were all about eight years old, I think. Gilbert recruited us to fight the dastardly pirate and that began everything. I think the pirate was actually Arthur, now that I remember."

"That wouldn't surprise me," Elizaveta smirked. She could definitely picture an eight-year-old Arthur sporting an eye-patch and a hook for a hand.

"Antonio! Elizaveta!" Francis and Gilbert finally turned around the corner of the street. Gilbert waved his hand at the two of them before quickening his pace. His gait seemed more uneasy and unstable than before. He stumbled and nearly fell before Francis grabbed a hold of Gilbert and steadied him.

"Gilbert!" Antonio said jovially. "I just remembered something! This year's anniversary will be our ten year anniversary since we met!"

Gilbert's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Are you serious? A whole decade! We definitely need a spectacular prank this year."

"I think the idea of water balloons is a good choice," Francis suggested.

"Don't you say that every year?" Gilbert chuckled. "You just want to use water balloons so that you could see through peoples' wet white T-shirts."

"I think I'll arrange to get out of town that day," Elizaveta quipped. "We'll talk about that later. What did you want to tell us?"

Gilbert's face fell at the reminder. He tugged on Antonio's sleeve.

"Let's go to the swing set!" he said loudly before sprinting towards the swings. Antonio, Francis, and Elizaveta exchanged confused glances before following Gilbert. Gilbert seated himself on a swing, his face excited like a little boy's.

"Can you push me, Francis?" Gilbert pleaded. "I want to reach the highest point!"

"Your legs are long enough to push you off the ground," Francis said, smiling.

"Come o-o-on!" Gilbert whined. "Don't deny a young man the chance to enjoy his swinging."

Francis rolled his eyes, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He gave one shove and Gilbert nearly toppled out of the swing.

"Hold on to the chain!" Elizaveta snapped.

"Okay, okay!" Gilbert said, returning to the swing."Again!"

Francis pushed Gilbert, and this time Gilbert stayed planted on the seat. He tucked his long legs under the swing to keep them from dragging on the colorful ground. A satisfied grin brightened his face as he flew high in the air and swooped back to the ground.

"Gilbert, you didn't drag us here to push you on the swing, did you?" Elizaveta called out, crossing her arms.

"No!" Gilbert sang. The wind whipped his white hair around his face. "But since we're here, we might as well use the resources." He cast an amused glance at the lot. "Don't just stand there! Come on!"

"What did you want to talk about?" Antonio asked.

Gilbert dragged the toes of his shoes on the ground to stop his swinging. He bit his lip anxiously and stayed silent for a moment. Suddenly, Gilbert bolted out of the swing and raced towards the tower.

"Let's go over there instead!" Gilbert yelled over his shoulder. Elizaveta gave an exasperated groan before tailing Gilbert. Antonio and Francis followed in suit, both equally perplexed.

Gilbert climbed up the bright blue ladder towards the rubbery tower. He ran across the net bridge towards the purple slide, the highest point in the tower. Francis nearly tangled his ankle in the netting connecting the two towers in his pursuit of his best friend. Elizaveta and Antonio climbed up the large slide to reach Gilbert, who stood on the railing and admired the scenery before him.

"I feel like the king of the world!" Gilbert said jubilantly, leaning over the railing. The sun oozed down the sky, leaving smudged residue of burnt sienna and violet hues. The playground was bathed in a wreath of liquid amber.

The other three sat down on the floor next to the slide. Elizaveta felt uncomfortable with the thick criss-cross pattern of the tower's floor ingrained in her back and legs. Gilbert resignedly slid to the ground next to them.

"Why'd you choose here of all places?" asked Elizaveta. She was bursting with curiosity to know what was so important that Gilbert needed to tell all three of them at once in person.

"I didn't want to do it via phone or internet," Gilbert admitted, rubbing the back of his silver head. "And this was the first place I thought of."

Antonio drew his knees to his chest, eyeing Gilbert with concern. Francis interlocked his fingers and leaned forward, his eyebrows raised.

"Well, spill it, _mon ami_," Francis urged. "I'm not a friend of mystery."

Gilbert took in a deep breath. He rubbed his eyes resignedly and pressed his knuckles to his lips.

"Um," Gilbert said awkwardly, scratching his chin. "How do I say this?"

Elizaveta felt chills run down her spine. Gilbert was the most blunt and bold person any of them has ever known. It was impossible for him to be at a loss for words, especially around his best friends in the world.

"Okay," Gilbert sighed, running a hand through his hair. "So…I went to the doctors some time ago."

Elizaveta's heart sank to her stomach. She could feel her blood run cold.

"They say," said Gilbert, staring at his sneakers, "that my case is serious."

Elizaveta swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly feeling very dry.

"How serious?" Antonio asked nervously.

Gilbert pursed his lips. "I've got to keep going to the hospital for treatment. Maybe even be admitted into it in a couple months. I don't know how long. I just know that I'm going to get worse and I'll have to go back there."

"You've got to be joking!" Antonio cried desperately.

Gilbert's red eyes flickered to Antonio's green ones. Gilbert shrugged wearily and let out a soft sigh. The look on Antonio's face was positively heartbreaking, as if he was watching the world crash before him behind a wall of glass.

"Mein Gott," Gilbert muttered. "I hate doing this. I wish I didn't have to tell you all any of this but—I was going to keep it low and see how I fare later, but I figured—I couldn't keep something like _this_ a secret, not when I know you know how ill I get or if I suddenly disappear to go to the hospital without telling you or—"

"You weren't going to tell us?" Antonio asked, his voice broken. Gilbert hesitated and leaned his head on the railing.

"I wasn't sure if that was the best idea," Gilbert admitted. "I hate being the bearer of news. I thought that it wouldn't do any good or anything but—the next thing I knew, I was calling you three up and asking you to meet me here."

"Don't ever think that again," Elizaveta ordered. She gripped his hand tightly, almost forcefully. "We don't want lies or false stories. Even if you're on the way down to Hell, you better tell us."

"I agree with Elizaveta," Francis said calmly, though his blue eyes shone with worry. "Even if we might find out sooner or later, the blow is ten times softer coming out of your mouth."

Gilbert ran his thumb over Elizaveta's knuckle, unable to look at anyone in the eye. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Finally he wetted his lips and continued.

"Look," Gilbert said slowly. "I know this is sort of…not exactly the happiest thing to happen, but you've got to hear me out." He finally lifted his eyes and they gleamed with determination. "I know I can get out of this easy. I'm like a soldier—I can fight this out. This is just a little vacation from normality. So—so don't worry, okay?"

Elizaveta chewed on the inside of her cheek. She wanted to believe Gilbert. She needed a guarantee that he would be all right eventually. It didn't matter how long it took as long as it would happen.

"You've got to trust me," Gilbert said softly. "You know I'm a tough cookie, right? Don't go all weepy on me or get scared or anything because there _isn't_ anything to be sad or scared about. Especially you, Antonio."

Antonio hastily rubbed his face, shielding it from view. He coughed into his hands and nodded.

"Yes," Antonio said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He tried to wipe the apprehension from his face and plastered on a smile. "I know. I'm trying."

"You're only saying that," Gilbert said calmly. "But do you actually mean it? You know—you could probably be saying it because you feel—I don't know—obligated to say it, or you want to comfort _me_ because you think saying it would make _me_ feel more confident—I don't need that. I'm fine on my own. I want _you_ to be confident too."

"I do believe you," Antonio said quietly, "but that doesn't mean I'm not concerned."

"Don't be," Gilbert persisted. "I'm not even afraid. If I'm not, you certainly don't have the right to."

Antonio laughed weakly. "If that's what you want, then I'll try. I can't make promises, though."

"But I can," Gilbert vowed. "And I will."

Elizaveta fixed her eyes on Gilbert's face, searching for any flicker of doubt or hesitation. She only saw passionate determination in his garnet eyes.

This was the Gilbert Beilschmidt she knew and loved.

"We trust you," Elizaveta promised him.

She meant it.

* * *

Gilbert climbed out of Ludwig's car and sighed heavily. He felt extremely tired and his mood was starting to become testy. All he wanted right now was a bed and a punching bag, though even if he had a punching bag it was doubtful that he could even make it move.

"Are you hungry?" Ludwig asked as he unlocked the door into the house.

"No," Gilbert muttered, kicking off his shoes.

"The doctor said—"

"The doctors can say whatever the hell they want—_I'm not hungry_," Gilbert snapped before entering the house. Ludwig sighed and closed the door behind him.

"Water?" Ludwig offered.

"No, thank you," Gilbert said sourly, ruffling his silver hair. His arms felt like matchsticks wrapped in thin parchment. "I'm fine, okay? I just—I want to go to bed. Don't wake me up."

"All right," Ludwig said softly. Gilbert trudged up the stairs, his heart sagging with guilt. When he reached the second floor he groaned and rested his forehead on his bedroom door. Those blasted doctors definitely put a damper on Gilbert's good mood that day. Did he need to be reminded every visit that he was growing weaker, that the disease was spreading and that sooner or later he would have to be admitted to the hospital? Gilbert glanced down at the bandage around his forearm where the doctors fastened a tube to inject who knows what inside his bloodstream. Whatever it was, it certainly did not make Gilbert feel better anymore.

Gilbert took in a deep breath before turning the doorknob and shoving the door open. When he entered the room he nearly cried out in shock and stumbled back, hitting his head against the doorway.

"Took you forever to come back home!" Antonio exclaimed, getting off of Gilbert's bed. "Did you get stuck in traffic or something?"

"What are you doing here?" Gilbert cried out, climbing back to his feet.

"I'm in your bed. What else does it look like I'm doing?" Antonio said simply. "And you're right—I can't find my boxers in your guestroom."

"I told you, didn't I?" Gilbert said before shutting the door. "You are abusing the spare key I gave you."

"What other reason would I use it for besides getting into your house?" Antonio pointed out. "Ludwig's dogs are a lot nicer to me than usual today. They didn't try to bite me or drive me out of the house or anything."

"They only do that when Francis is around," Gilbert explained, throwing himself onto the bed. "Otherwise they're pretty calm."

"Why?" Antonio asked.

"Meh. Just because," Gilbert said, shrugging. Antonio accepted the bland answer and lied down next to Gilbert, staring up at the ceiling.

"How are things between you and Lovino?" Gilbert asked.

Antonio's face broke into a dazed grin. "Wonderful."

"I thought you two were fighting."

"We are?" Antonio asked, perplexed.

"Beats me nowadays," said Gilbert. "He yells when he's happy, when he's sad, when he's angry…there really isn't any telling."

"Isn't he so cute?" Antonio laughed.

"Why are you here?" Gilbert demanded. "I expect this kind of stuff from Francis, but not you. You'd actually text me or give me a heads up."

Antonio sighed. "I just wanted to see how you were. I knew you were going to the doctors' and all today."

"And you didn't think that calling me was a good idea?" Gilbert said. Gilbert was glad to see his good friend here, but he felt raw and exposed. He had just come back from a hospital check up and he felt absolutely fatigued and ill—a sight he didn't want anyone else to see.

"Well, I thought I could surprise you!" Antonio said cheerily. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"Really?" Gilbert said skeptically, his eyes boring into Antonio's. Antonio hesitated and groaned.

"Okay, fine," Antonio mumbled. "I wanted to see how you actually are. If I told you I was coming, it would give you time to—to hide things."

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows at Antonio. "Why would you want to see me like that?"

"To make sure you weren't hiding anything from us," Antonio said bluntly.

"I thought you trusted me," Gilbert said coldly.

"I do!" Antonio said quickly, his eyes widening with fear. "I know you'll be all right, but that doesn't mean you won't go through some tough times!"

"I won't lie to you. You know that," said Gilbert. "If I'm puking my innards out and can't even see straight, I'll tell you."

"Okay," sighed Antonio. "What did the doctors say?"

Gilbert looked away. "The usual."

"How have you been feeling?" Antonio asked.

Gilbert let out a heavy sigh. "Not my best. I could barely get out of bed without feeling like I was going to pass out. My limbs feel like lead."

"Have you eaten dinneryet?" Antonio asked.

"Who are you, my dietician?" Gilbert accused. "Nah, I didn't. Didn't feel up to it. Don't give me that face," Gilbert whined when Antonio frowned with worry. "I'm not going anorexic or anything. Just give me another day, I'll eat something again."

"Supplements," Antonio corrected sadly.

"It has nutrients and such, doesn't it?" Gilbert pointed out.

"I heard that soup is a good thing to eat when you feel sick," Antonio piped up. "Do you think you can deal with soup?"

"I don't know," Gilbert said. "Thinking about eating makes me feel whoozy."

"I made gazpacho for you!" Antonio announced. He sat up and took the silver thermos sitting on Gilbert's desk to Gilbert. "I figured that you wouldn't want something very rich or that you had to chew a lot, so I thought gazpacho would be the best choice."

Gilbert smiled wryly. "Apparently the idea that I can't stand to eat means nothing to you."

"But Gilbert, you'll starve to death!" Antonio protested. "And I thought you liked my gazpacho."

"I never said I didn't," Gilbert contradicted. "I just don't know if I can handle it."

"I even made you churros!" Antonio continued.

Gilbert groaned and placed his hand on his forehead. "You're tempting me now, Antonio."

Antonio grinned playfully. "You can eat the churros only if you finish the gazpacho."

"Are you serious?" Gilbert cried out.

"Or I could just eat the churros myself…" Antonio sighed.

"Screw you, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo," Gilbert mumbled. "The things I do for your churros. Fine, I'll eat your blasted gazpacho."

Antonio cheered before unscrewing the top of the thermos and preparing to spoon-feed Gilbert the cold vegetable soup. Gilbert made a face.

"I'm sick, not an invalid," Gilbert said before taking the spoon and thermos himself. He hesitantly gulped down the cold soup.

"Is it good?" Antonio asked excitedly.

"It tastes good," Gilbert agreed. He continued to eat the gazpacho. Antonio was practically bouncing up and down with happiness.

"Francis was going to come today too," Antonio explained as he untied the plastic bag of churros, "but he couldn't make it. He and Arthur had another row and Francis is now too sore to move."

"Typical," Gilbert chuckled.

"Hey there, Gilbird!" Antonio greeted the small yellow chick. The chick was nestled deep into its little cotton bedding. It poked its head over the side of the bowl and cheeped at Antonio. "Gilbird, you're so cute. You're nothing like you're owner—"

"Dammit," Gilbert stuttered behind Antonio.

"It's true, though, Gilbert! I don't think you're adorable and fluffy at all—Gilbert?"

Gilbert was trembling, his fists clenched and his face growing sallow. He set the thermos onto the nightstand, nearly spilling it onto the carpet. Antonio rushed over to Gilbert.

"I'll take you to the bathroom, okay?" Antonio said. He slung Gilbert's arm over his shoulder sand helped Gilbert onto his feet. Gilbert pressed his hand against his mouth, wincing. His mouth felt extremely dry for one moment and then immediately became filled with saliva soon afterward.

Antonio barely had enough time to help Gilbert into the bathroom before Gilbert crouched over the toilet, vomiting and spitting into the bowl. His body shook as he tried to sit upright but could barely keep his balance. All the gazpacho and whatever else was left in Gilbert's stomach was spilled into the toilet. Antonio thought he even saw a sickening dark red drip from Gilbert's lips.

When everything was emptied into the toilet, Gilbert lost his strength. He collapsed onto the bathroom floor, his lips stained. Gilbert emitted a frustrated cry through his gritted teeth as he rolled onto his back.

"D-do you want some water?" Antonio asked tentatively. Gilbert shook his head, but Antonio turned on the faucet and filled up a cup full of cold water anyway. He helped Gilbert sit up, propped him up against the bathtub, and brought the water to his lips. Gilbert drank the cold water, sometimes stopping to rest his head against the wall and let the bout of faintness pass.

"Sorry, Antonio," Gilbert muttered, wiping his forehead. "It's not the gazpacho or anything, it's just—"

"It's okay," Antonio assured him. "Can you stand?"

Gilbert shook his head. "I think my skull's going to split."

"I'll go get Ludwig," Antonio said, moving towards the door.

"No!" Gilbert said quickly. "I'll just—I'm fine. I'll just sleep."

Unfortunately for Gilbert, his wishes were not answered. A fist outside knocked on the bathroom door.

"Gilbert, are you okay?" Ludwig's voice asked.

"Shoot," Gilbert muttered. "No—don't open it—!"

Antonio unlocked the bathroom door and pulled it open. Ludwig came over the shock of Antonio in his house quite quickly—he was used to Gilbert's friends invading their house. However, Ludwig spotted Gilbert huddled on the floor and he gasped.

"Bruder!" Ludwig exclaimed. He bent down next to Gilbert. "Are you okay? Is that blood on your lips?"

"Is it?" Gilbert grazed his thumb over his stained lips. "Did I throw up blood?"

Ludwig became more and more flustered. "That's not good at all. I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"No!" Gilbert protested. "I just came from there! I'm not going back! Let me just sleep!"

"This is serious, Gilbert," Ludwig said sternly.

"The doctors said I didn't have to stay in the hospital because of the medication I had—"

"The medication obviously didn't stop you from getting worse!" Ludwig cried. "I think it be best if I take you to the ER—"

"No!" Gilbert cried. He climbed to his feet and lurched towards the door. However, when he took a step or two, his hand flew to his mouth. Dark red liquid spilled from his mouth and seeped through the spaces between his fingers. He pressed his hand on his lips, desperately trying to suppress the vomit as it spilled out. He fell to his knees, nearly in tears with frustration as he fought for air while bloody vomit splattered onto the bathroom floor.

"Don't touch me!" Gilbert cried when Ludwig and Antonio bent down to pick him off the ground. His voice trembled uncontrollably. Ludwig ignored Gilbert's plea and pulled him into his arms. Gilbert couldn't fight back. His shirt was now stained with red.

"I'm taking you to the ER," Ludwig said firmly. "I'm sorry, Antonio, but we've got to cut your visit short."

"I can clean up if you'd like," Antonio said weakly.

"That's fine, I'll do it myself," Ludwig said hastily. "I've got to go—lock the doors when you leave; I know you've got the keys to do it." Without another second to waste, Ludwig rushed down the stairs to the garage, carrying Gilbert.

Antonio stood rooted to the spot, immobile even when Ludwig pulled the car out of the driveway and drove off. It took Antonio a long time to finally reawaken from his shock and slowly clean up the dark stains on the bathroom floor. His hands kept shaking and his heart was flitting wildly with dread. He threw the soiled papers into a wastebasket, washed his hands, and found himself in Gilbert's bedroom.

Antonio stared at the thermos of gazpacho sitting guiltily on the nightstand. He picked it up and absentmindedly stirred it with the spoon. He just noticed that it had the same consistency as vomit. He gulped and shuddered before returning to the bathroom and pouring the contents down the sink.

Antonio prayed that Gilbert would be all right.

He turned on the faucet and washed out the remaining gazpacho that clung to the bottom of the thermos. Gilbert had tried to eat the cold soup and ended up even worse than before. What if it was Antonio's fault that Gilbert was at that state?

Antonio's fingers fumbled to screw back on the top of the thermos. His hands felt clammy and his stomach churned horribly.

He shouldn't have come.

He shouldn't have tried to visit Gilbert and forced him to eat the gazpacho. Maybe if Antonio just stayed home and teased Francis for getting beat up by Arthur, Gilbert would have been all right and wouldn't have to go to the emergency room. If he didn't get the urge to visit Gilbert and decide that gazpacho was a safe bet, none of this would've happened.

Antonio threw the churros into the trashcan and scrubbed the bathroom floor until it was antibacterial and sparkling clean. Afterward, he finally locked the front door behind him and returned home, the albatross of guilt hanging around his neck.

* * *

Ludwig sat motionless on the chair of the waiting room. He had enough of waiting rooms, but fate just kept them coming. First it was for Grandfather Old Fritz. Then it was for his mother. Now it was for his brother.

The room was filled with other people waiting nervously for their friends and family. Others were waiting restlessly for their own turn to be admitted into the ER.

Unlike the other waiting rooms, this one was unbearably loud.

There were so much shouting and talking that it made Ludwig's head hurt. Doors were slamming and footsteps pounded on the hard floor. Someone's cell phone was ringing. Something was beeping loudly and it kept growing louder and louder.

Ludwig needed out before his entire head exploded.

"Mr. Beilschmidt?"

Ludwig looked up immediately to see a nurse with long hair so blond it was almost silver. She had a cold, sharp look to her eyes that made Ludwig wary.

"Yes?" he said.

"The doctor would like to speak to you," she said in a calm voice. She led Ludwig through the sliding glass doors. Ludwig grew jittery with nervousness as he was taken to a very tall doctor who was standing outside the door of a hospital room.

"Mr. Beilschmidt is here, Dr. Braginski," the nurse said, curtseying. Ludwig couldn't help but frown at the peculiar gesture.

"Thank you, Miss Arlovskaya," Dr. Braginski said in a soft voice. "You may leave now."

The nurse nodded before turning on her heel and striding away. Ludwig couldn't tell why, but he felt the atmosphere grow colder.

"How is Gilbert?" Ludwig asked anxiously.

"He is doing better now," Braginski said, scrutinizing his clipboard. "Still very ill, though, but at least he stopped throwing up blood, da?"

Ludwig nodded, not exactly sure what 'da' meant. "The medicine that the doctors gave him…will they still work?"

"Ah, yes, about that," Braginski noted, turning a sheet of paper over the top of the clipboard. "How long has Gilbert been taking them?"

"About a couple weeks," said Ludwig. "They never really lasted long, though, but today it was as if he never took them at all."

"I see," said Braginski, a small smile on his round face. "Well, Mr. Beilschmidt, I think it has become apparent that the medications that Gilbert is given is no longer effective."

"What will happen, then?" Ludwig asked nervously. It was unnerving that the treatment Gilbert had received all this time was for nothing.

"He is no longer in a fit state to remain at home anymore," Braginski said tranquilly. "It is for the best that he be admitted into the hospital for long-term stay."

"You're not serious," Ludwig said quickly. This was too soon. It had been only about three weeks since Gilbert was diagnosed as seriously ill. The doctors had guessed at least two months until Gilbert may need to be admitted into the hospital.

"Why, I'm not joking at all," said Braginski lightly. "The treatment he had received when he stayed home will no longer do him any good. It is best if you gave up on that and let him into my hospital."

_His _hospital?

"How bad is he really?" Ludwig asked weakly.

"Very bad," Braginski said bluntly. "He will need constant attention and treatment. If he stays home he will not receive all the help he needs at the right time."

Ludwig pursed his lips. "May I see him?"

"He's quite weak right now. Perhaps seeing him will not be very useful."

"I don't care, just let me see him!" Ludwig demanded.

Braginski merely continued smiling that small smile. "Excitement might make his state worse, Mr. Beilschmidt. We wouldn't want that, da?"

"He's not going to get excited just because I showed up in his hospital room," Ludwig argued. "I…I need to talk this over with him. The whole situation about moving to the hospital."

"There really isn't much choice for you, though," Braginski pointed out in an almost sing-song voice.

"I want to be the one who tells him, then," Ludwig said.

Braginski shrugged. "If you insist," he sighed. He turned around and opened a door. "In you go."

Ludwig rushed into the room to Gilbert's bedside. Gilbert winced and opened his eyes when Ludwig came. His face was still a shade of gray and he could barely turn his head.

"Hey, West," muttered Gilbert.

"How are you feeling?" Ludwig asked nervously.

"Peachy," Gilbert grumbled. "Goodness, I hate this place. Even the bed sheets smell like sterilized needles."

"That's the point," Ludwig said lightly. Gilbert grimaced and pushed the sheets away.

"When can you get me out of here?" Gilbert asked.

Ludwig bit his lip and sighed. "I can't."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Gilbert said swiftly, his voice biting.

"Doctor Braginski said that you're too ill to go home," Ludwig said, his voice strained.

"What about all that treatment those doctors gave me during those past visits?" Gilbert demanded. "Didn't they fix me up a bit?"

"Apparently they aren't working anymore," Ludwig explained. "Your disease got too strong for those treatments…you'll have to stay in the hospital where you can be taken care of."

"I'm taken care of fine at home!" Gilbert protested. "What does the doctor know about what goes on at home, or how I'm feeling?"

"Bruder, listen to me," Ludwig urged. "There are some things I can't take care of—you'll need medical attention all the time. I can't do that. You've got to go."

"Nein," Gilbert said frantically, shaking his head. "I can't! It's too soon. The doctors said I wouldn't have to go until after a couple months. It hasn't even been a month yet!"

"It doesn't mean anything," Ludwig assured him distraughtly. "Maybe it means you'll get better sooner. You'll be okay."

Braginski knocked lightly on the open door. "Mr. Beilschmidt, it's about time you leave now."

"He can stay however long he wants!" Gilbert snapped.

Braginski's strange smile did not waver at the least. "I'm afraid that we do have the power to forcefully escort Mr. Beilschmidt out if necessary. We wouldn't hesitate to do that at all."

Gilbert gritted his teeth. Ludwig put a reassuring hand on Gilbert's.

"I'll see you every day," Ludwig promised. "And I'm sure Francis and Antonio and Elizaveta will come around also."

"Pinky swear?" Gilbert asked, holding up his hand.

"My word is enough," Ludwig said, smiling wryly. Gilbert scowled and let his hand drop to his side.

"I don't want to be stuck here with that Russian doctor," Gilbert mumbled.

Ludwig let out a chuckle. "If you're lucky, you'll only have to deal with the nurses."

"Mr. Beilschmidt," warned Braginski. Ludwig reluctantly rose to his feet.

"I'll see you, Bruder," Ludwig assured him. "Rest well."

Gilbert gave a half-hearted wave before Ludwig was ushered out of the hospital room. Ludwig was not too worried; Gilbert should be out in two weeks at least. He'll come back home soon and then life will continue its course.

He walked out into the parking lot to his car and drove home.

**I wanted this chapter to be sort of like the fall of Prussia. As I had mentioned earlier, Prussia had been taken over by Nazi rule. There was also an East Prussia during WWII, which was the main part of Prussia from the thirteenth century up until WWII. East Prussia had a bit of a beating during WWII, with the people being forced into concentration camps and massacres going on. At the end of WWII, the Allies decided to abolish the state of Prussia because they didn't want to revive what was perceived as a militaristic nation. **

**I wanted the idea of Gilbert's treatment not working and sending him to the hospital be symbolic to the abolishment of Prussia –is shot'd- I know, it doesn't seem anything related, but I figured that it was like this—they didn't want to help Gilbert using the old treatment, just like how the Allies didn't want to help Prussia become strong again. Gilbert is sent to the hospital; Prussia is dissolved. **

**So now Gilbert will be the equivalent of East Berlin. We are now entering Cold War territory. That's why Ivan is now the doctor that will keep a firm hand over Gilbert while he stays at the hospital. Belarus, Ukraine, and the Baltics might even make an appearance. **

**Please review~ It doesn't have to be a lengthy one; I just love hearing from my readers and knowing that my story is actually worth reading…: ) **

**By the way, starting next Tuesday I will update TWICE a week. Tuesdays and Fridays. I did some calculations and found out that if I updated once a week, I would run into the middle of June and I can't do that because I will be too busy. So twice a week it is! **


	4. Things We Go Through

Elizaveta didn't want to be here.

Anywhere but here.

She sat stiffly on the cold plastic chair, her hands clasped neatly on her lap. She stared straight ahead, trying to keep her self-control. Her heart beat so loudly in her chest that it hurt her ribs. Her hands wouldn't stop moving; they twisted the skirt of her dress until the fabric was wrinkled beyond repair.

The clock.

Why did the clock tick so loudly?

The more Elizaveta tried to ignore it, the louder it became. Soon, all she could hear was the clock ticking in the silent, lifeless waiting room. She began thinking that it started to go out of time; the ticking was irregular. Seconds stretched too long and shrunk too short. Time was staggering with a broken ankle, its moans and pants of pain echoing in Elizaveta's ears that nearly drove her mad.

"Elizaveta?"

Elizaveta didn't even notice that she was holding her breath until Ludwig's voice awakened her. She turned to him, breathing heavily.

"You don't have to be so distraught," Ludwig said softly. "You're like this every time."

"I know," Elizaveta muttered. She leaned against the back of her chair, gripping her knees. "I just can't…I can't calm down."

Ludwig nodded. Just like he always did every time he asked her.

"I called him last night," Ludwig said. "He's doing all right."

"So that's why his phone line was always so busy," Elizaveta mumbled.

"Sorry," Ludwig said guiltily. Elizaveta shook her head quickly.

"No, I'm not mad at all. Of course I'm not! I think that's really nice that you talk to him," Elizaveta assured him. "It's better this way."

They resumed to their choking silence. Elizaveta glued her eyes to the clock. Two forty-eight. Twelve more minutes until three o'clock. Twenty-four hours and twelve minutes until tomorrow. Then the next day, and the next.

"It's really cold here," Elizaveta said, attempting to break the silence.

"Yeah, it is," said Ludwig.

Elizaveta shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I hope they don't keep all the rooms so air conditioned. Maybe we should bring a blanket next time?"

"I've got that covered," Ludwig said, gesturing to the plastic bag occupying the seat beside him. "His clothes, I mean. The hospital gowns aren't exactly to his liking."

"I didn't think so," Elizaveta said, smiling slightly. "They don't look comfortable at all."

"They're too big for him," said Ludwig. "They hang off him like flags on a flagpole."

Elizaveta shuddered at the thought. A walking skeleton wearing baggy clothing was a sickening sight.

"Have Antonio and Francis come to visit?" Elizaveta asked.

"They do," answered Ludwig. "Though Francis sometimes gets kicked out early by the nurses. They think he'll cause too much stress."

Elizaveta smiled wryly. "They're probably right."

"Ludwig Beilschmidt?" Ludwig looked up to see the blond nurse at the doorway, holding a clipboard. He quickly grabbed the plastic bag from the chair and stood up eagerly. Elizaveta followed, feverishness pumping through her veins.

"Right this way, please," the nurse said, beckoning the two to follow her. She led them out of the waiting room through the white corridors, past countless doors that either held other patients locked in their beds or empty of anything. Ludwig and Elizaveta didn't even need a nurse to take them to the room anymore; they had become familiar with the route a long time ago. Down the hallway, turn to the left, seven doors down.

The nurse unlocked the door and knocked on it softly.

"Gilbert? Your brother and friend are here to see you." She opened the door wider and stepped aside for Elizaveta and Ludwig to come inside.

"_Finally_!" a raspy voice exclaimed from under the colorless sheets. "I thought you forgot about me by now!"

"Don't exaggerate," Ludwig said sternly. "We came yesterday, also."

"I know that," Gilbert grinned. "I can make a joke once in a while, right?"

Elizaveta and Ludwig pulled up chairs beside Gilbert's bed. Gilbert pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"You've got to get me out of here," Gilbert said immediately after the nurse left the room. "The staff here is seriously made up of serial killers."

"You're so paranoid," Elizaveta giggled.

"I'm serious!" Gilbert coughed. "Take my doctor for instance. Dr. Braginski. One moment he's nice and calm and the next he's got this slasher smile on and I'm _this_ close to getting stabbed with a scalpel!" He brought his thumb and forefinger a millimeter close to each other.

"It's probably just your imagination," Ludwig said.

"I'm not joking!" Gilbert insisted. "And that nurse—Nurse Natalia or something—she seriously shoots daggers out of her eyes. Whenever Dr. Braginski is treating me she glares at me as if I was doing something unspeakably horrible."

"Glad to see that you're getting situated here," Elizaveta said, smirking.

"You're sympathetic," Gilbert muttered. "Did you bring my things?"

"Of course," Ludwig said, opening the large bag at his feet. "Change into these." Ludwig threw a large T-shirt and basketball shorts at Gilbert. Gilbert fumbled to catch them and grinned at the sight of them.

"Awesome!" Gilbert exclaimed. He quickly pulled off his stiff hospital shirt. Elizaveta winced at the sight of Gilbert's thin torso. It was much too bony. Gilbert wriggled on his gray T-shirt with two cartoon foxes printed on it.

"What is that?" Elizaveta asked as she pointed to the cartoon foxes.

"Fix and Foxy, the most awesome cartoon comic ever," Gilbert said. "German cartoons are the best. Much better than the strange junk Alfred likes to read. Who wants to read about a lazy, fat cat?"

Elizaveta cracked a smile. Though the shirt was smaller than the one the hospital provided, Gilbert still looked very skinny in it.

"Have they been feeding you well?" Ludwig asked.

Gilbert frowned. "I can't eat."

"Maybe you don't feel up to it but that doesn't mean you stop altogether," argued Ludwig.

Gilbert shook his head. "I can't do it without feeling like I'm going to die or something. I have to eat this bland soup every day. It's sick."

"As long as it gives you nutrition," Ludwig said.

"I don't think that counts," Gilbert mumbled. "I miss pancakes."

"If the doctors don't think you can eat it, you probably can't," Elizaveta pointed out.

"That's not going to stop me from craving them," said Gilbert. "How's Gilbird doing?"

"He misses you," Ludwig said, giving a crooked smile. "He keeps biting me whenever I try to feed him or change his cotton balls. He hops on your bed a lot and he won't leave your room."

"Poor tyke," Gilbert sighed. "I miss him. He's been denied my awesomeness for far too long."

"You'll see him soon," Ludwig said. "Once you start getting better and improve your health, you'll come back home."

"I'm getting there," Gilbert said, smiling wryly. "It'll just take a while."

"I know," Ludwig said. "Take your time. We'll wait."

Gilbert ruffled Ludwig's hair playfully. "You miss my amazingness blessing our house, don't you?"

Ludwig swatted away Gilbert's hand. "Don't push it."

Gilbert chuckled. "How's Dad doing?"

"He's still very busy," Ludwig sighed. "He sends you his love."

"Mmhmm," Gilbert said passively. "I hope you've been a good boy, West. Have you been doing your homework and studying for your tests?"

"Yes, yes," Ludwig said impatiently. "You don't even need to ask."

"Of course I do. I'm your big brother. I need to make sure little West is being responsible and crap," Gilbert laughed.

"You've been getting your rest, haven't you?" Elizaveta asked.

"You sound like a nurse," Gilbert said, frowning. "I'd like to have at least two hours without being interrogated about my health, thank you very much."

Elizaveta sighed. "I can try, but I'm not guaranteeing anything."

"I won't even bother trying," Ludwig said.

"And you think I'm the one that is paranoid," snorted Gilbert. "Anything interesting going on outside this cell?"

"Not exactly," Elizaveta admitted. "Arthur and Alfred are planning a cook-off this Saturday."

Gilbert coughed violently. He thumped his chest to clear the way for the oxygen to reach his lungs. When he finally calmed himself down, he gawked at Elizaveta.

"Why?" he demanded, aghast.

"I heard this from Francis," Elizaveta said. "Apparently they were insulting each other's favorite foods and now they're going to see who can cook the best meal."

"The winner will be Alfred, hands down," Gilbert speculated. "His sense of taste sucks, but Arthur was put onto this earth to prove that even cereal can be botched up. Who are the judges?"

"Feliciano, Yao, and Francis," said Elizaveta. "The connoisseurs of cuisine."

"Of course," Gilbert laughed. "Though I'm surprised Arthur agreed on Francis. I'd thought that Arthur would accuse Francis of bias or something like that."

"It surprised me too," Ludwig said.

"That'll be epic," Gilbert chuckled, gazing out the window. It overlooked a small courtyard for patients to take their exercise in. There were no gardens or plants anywhere, only cement. It would do the hospital no good if their patients had allergy attacks from the pollen from plants.

"I want to go outside," Gilbert announced.

"You can't do that," Ludwig said, frowning.

"Why not?" Gilbert demanded. "I'm sick and tired of fluorescent light bulbs and those stupid sunflowers printed on the wallpaper. Seriously, what's up with all these sunflowers? They're all over the room, and they're all fake too. They smell like dusty plastic."

"You tried smelling them?" laughed Elizaveta.

"You would too if you thought they were real," Gilbert said sheepishly. "I can't stand lying in bed all day. It sort of gets _boring_ after a while."

"Wait until you get a little better," Ludwig advised.

"Vitamin D isn't going to kill me," Gilbert pointed out.

"Doctor's choice, not ours," Ludwig said. Gilbert pouted. "No, don't try that on me. I really don't have a choice."

The door swung open and Dr. Braginski stepped inside. Gilbert stiffened at the sight of his doctor and crossed his arms. Braginski smiled sweetly at his patient before nodding to Nurse Natalia behind him. Natalia wheeled in a pole with an IV bag hanging off of it.

"It's time for your medication, Gilbert," Braginski said lightly. Gilbert gritted his teeth.

"Can't it wait?" Gilbert demanded. "I don't want to get all drowsy now. I've got visitors."

"If you don't do it now, Gilbert, there won't be any other time," said Braginski, "and then you will be subjected to extreme pain and fatigue. You wouldn't want that, da?" He spoke in such honeyed tones that it seemed as if he was explaining the situation to a two-year-old.

"One more hour," pressed Gilbert. "You can make it wait until then, can't you?"

"Gilbert, just do it now," Elizaveta sighed. "It's okay—we can see you again another day."

"I don't want you to leave early!" Gilbert protested. "I'm going to have to spend the other twenty-two hours of the day with a needle stuck in my vein. I'm not about to cut my two hours of freedom short."

"You mustn't be so difficult, Gilbert," Braginski sighed. "Unless you want to stay with me in the hospital longer, you should do it now. But either way is fine with me."

Gilbert cringed at Braginski's words. He braced himself and sighed.

"Fine," he muttered. "Let's get it over with. The faster I'm out of this—_place—_" It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that Gilbert wanted to use a much different word to describe the hospital, "—as soon as I can."

"There's a good boy," Braginski gushed. Gilbert struggled to hide his disgust as Braginski cleaned Gilbert's arm with an alcohol swab. In a fluid motion, Braginski stuck the thin needle into Gilbert's vein and taped it down with a cottony bandage. Gilbert kept glaring at Braginski the whole time.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Braginski said. He nodded to Elizaveta and Ludwig. "He'll become very lethargic soon, so once he does it'll be best to leave him with me and go back home, da?"

"Um, sure," agreed Ludwig. Braginski beamed at the two before scribbling into his clipboard and departing. Gilbert groaned as soon as the door closed.

"He doesn't seem all that bad," Elizaveta reasoned.

"He's fine now, but give him another hour or so, he'll be so scary that I'm certain the sunflowers die a little. And they're _fake_."

Elizaveta laughed. "Don't worry. You'll be out of here in no time."

Gilbert took a quick glance at the IV bag hanging on the pole. "I hate this stuff. It makes me feel so sluggish."

"When do the effects start kicking in?" Ludwig asked.

"Don't worry about it," Gilbert said. "When I drop dead asleep, you can leave."

"Knowing you, you'd probably try to fight it off," Ludwig sighed. "Get as much rest as you can, Bruder. The more you rest, the quicker you'll recover."

"Yeah, yeah," Gilbert sighed. "Have I got any word from the university yet, West?"

"You know that it's too early for them to get back to you," Ludwig said.

"Can't help but hope, right?" Gilbert said. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. "I sort of wish they do it soon so I know how to prepare."

"I'm sure you'll be fine," Elizaveta assured him. "Are you getting tired?"

"No," Gilbert said stubbornly. "West, did you bring the books I asked for?"

"Of course," Ludwig said. He dug into the bag and pulled out two novels. "I'll grab more later. These are the ones you asked for."

"Sweet," Gilbert said, taking the books. "Finally, something to alleviate my boredom." He put the books, _Zeit zu Leben und Zeit zu Sterben_ and _La Sombra Del Viento_ on the table. "Antonio said I should read _La Sombra Del Viento_. He said it's quite a shocker."

Gilbert reached over to the table and took a notepad and a pencil. Scrawled on the paper was a long list of book titles. They were _Zeit zu Leben und Zeit zu Sterben_, _La Sombra Del Viento, Catcher in the Rye, Flyboys: A True Story of Courage, The Pianist, Les Misérables, A Tale of Two Cities, _and _The Things They Carried._He crossed out the first two titles, leaving six more novels to read.

"You _are_ using my money to buy these books, right?" Gilbert confirmed.

"Of course," Ludwig said carefully.

Gilbert slid down the wall and laid his head on the pillow. Elizaveta could tell that the medicine was taking its effect on Gilbert. His eyelids were growing heavy and his words became more slurred and quieter.

"You should sleep now," Elizaveta said.

"No," Gilbert mumbled. "I can last a little longer."

"We'll come back as soon as we can," Ludwig promised.

Gilbert didn't bother to give a response. He rubbed his eyes sleepily and gazed wistfully at the two.

"Don't forget me, okay?" Gilbert said.

"Don't be silly," Ludwig scolded. Gilbert chuckled softly before closing his eyes.

"I hate this medicine," he mumbled. "It makes me feel so vulnerable."

Elizaveta kissed him on the forehead. He reached out to graze his fingers over Elizaveta's long hair before letting his hand fall back onto the bed. Ludwig squeezed his hand tightly before rising from his chair and beckoning Elizaveta to follow him out of the room. Elizaveta cast a fleeting glance at the slumbering Gilbert before leaving the room.

"He's so stubborn," Elizaveta sighed.

"That's a good thing," Ludwig said softly. "He's a fighter."

Elizaveta nodded silently. Her eyes lit up immediately afterwards. She quickly sought for Dr. Braginski, who was a little ways down the hall talking to a nurse with short blond hair.

"Dr. Braginski?" Elizaveta asked as Ludwig hurried after her.

"Ah, you're Gilbert's little friend," Braginski greeted. "Do you need to be admitted to the hospital as well?"

"Um, no," Elizaveta said, frowning. "I was wondering—see, Gilbert has a pet chick that misses him terribly, so do you think that we could bring it over to—?"

"That's such a silly question," Braginski laughed. Elizaveta recoiled at his reaction. "Why, of course not. The chick could bring harmful bacteria or infections into the hospital and make the patients even worse."

"I see," Elizaveta said, crestfallen. "But what about food and his blankets? It's rather cold here and he doesn't seem to eat a lot—"

"You and Mr. Beilschmidt here seem to have already brought much for Gilbert," Braginski said in a dangerously sweet tone. "Much more than I usually allow. You see, we don't permit outside possessions to enter the hospital in case there are germs of some sort clinging to them that could easily spread throughout the hospital. As for other food, Gilbert isn't allowed to eat anything else besides what we give him. We don't believe his body would accept it."

"How would you know if you never tried it out?" Elizaveta asked.

"Such questions!" exclaimed Braginski. "Don't you think that we would know things like these, Miss…?"

"Héderváry," Elizaveta said reluctantly.

"Miss Héderváry," echoed Braginski. "We know what is best for Gilbert. It is advisable that you stop bringing things in from the outside. It will make things worse."

"It might make him feel more at home," Elizaveta protested.

"This is his new home—it should already feel like it," Braginski said. "I'm sorry, Miss Héderváry, but I must leave you. I've got a patient Toris that needs me at this moment. I hope we meet again." He gave her a short nod before disappearing down the hallway.

"It seems so unreasonable!" Elizaveta said to Ludwig. "'The outside world…' You'd think he was talking as if we were on a completely different planet!"

"He means well," Ludwig said. "We better get going, Elizaveta. Visiting hours will be over soon."

"Fine," Elizaveta said resignedly. She glanced towards Gilbert's hospital room door one last time before following Ludwig out of the hospital.

**This is my first time ever writing full-fledged yandere Russia before…sorry if I completely botched him up.**

**The hospital is equivalent to the Soviet Union (fail). Russia's whole 'Become one with me, da?' is sort of reworded into 'You want to be admitted into the hospital too?' Yeah, some things have to be compromised. **

**_'Zeit zu Leben und Zeit zu Sterben' _is a book written by Erich Maria Remarque, the same author who penned 'All Quiet on the Western Front.' I haven't read it yet, but I heard it was really good. '_La Sombra Del Viento_' is a Spanish book and is one of my favorite books. The English title is 'Shadow of the Wind' by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Check it out; it's really epic. **

**Oh yeah. Sunflowers all over hospital room equals Russia's extreme obsession over sunflowers. Thought I should point that out. **

**One may ask, If this was during the whole Berlin Wall conflict, why is Germany able to see Prussia? According to research (coughWikipediacough) ****West Germans and citizens of other Western countries could in general visit East Germany. However, East German authorities could refuse entry permits without stating a reason. West Berliners initially could not visit East Berlin or East Germany at all. So West Germany had a bit more freedom but East Germany was really restricted. **

**I figured that since Prussia also represented the Teutonic Knights, which was a German Roman Catholic religious order that also partook in the crusades, he would be pretty devout. Somewhat surprising, considering his personality, but in the manga strips during his Teutonic Order days he seemed rather religious. **

**Next chapter will have the Bad Touch Trio unite…along with the Berlin Air Lift. **


	5. Triumvirate

**(Hello new and old readers! To my old readers, I'm sorry that this isn't a new chapter. To my new readers, I warmly welcome you! I just needed to let everyone know that I am reconsidering moving my update days to once a week on Thursdays. I noticed that more people were able to read my stories when I updated in such a fashion than when I update twice a week. We are beginning to move into serious and somewhat darker chapters and I wanted those to be able to read by as many as possible because I am quite happy with how they turned out. **

**Every now and then I may update twice a week. I don't really know what I want, I just know that I want to update on Thursdays. Thanks for your patience!) **

Francis kicked open the door of his sleek car right after he parked it in the hospital parking lot. He slipped on his black sunglasses and nodded to his companion on the passenger's seat. Antonio quickly stepped out of the car, carrying a large black guitar case. He also sported shades, though they were a touch bluer than Francis's.

"Have you got everything?" Francis said to Antonio.

"Yup!" Antonio said. "But I don't see why we have to wear sunglasses and black leather jackets. I feel like I'm in the mafia."

"That's the point," said Francis. "If we're going to break some rules, we might as well look good doing it, right?"

"Okay," Antonio said, shrugging. "Though don't you think we would attract more attention if we're dressed like this? It's not every day two teenage boys with dark shades and biker jackets walk into a hospital with a guitar."

"We don't need to avoid attention," Francis said smoothly as they headed towards the entrance. "We just need to avoid suspicion. Now make sure you aren't wearing any sort of metal. If we get stopped at the entrance detectors already we will be in a rut."

Antonio looked down at the leather jacket studded with metal pins and chains. "I think we have a problem, Francis."

Francis sighed. "Didn't you think about this before you put it on?"

"I had to borrow this from Lovi," Antonio said. "For some reason Lovi has a lot of clothes that mafias would love to wear."

"Maybe your little lovebird has a secret," Francis quipped. "Well, take it off then. I'll have to look cool for the both of us."

Antonio tugged off the leather jacket and threw it into the back seat of the car. Francis gave a low whistle.

"Though the leather jacket could've been magnificent, the black and red dress shirt is a nice touch."

"Can I still keep the sunglasses?" Antonio asked.

"Yes, yes, let's just go now," Francis said impatiently. "Now, you remember what to do, right?"

"Of course!" Antonio said confidently.

"Don't swing the guitar case," Francis advised. "You did poke holes into it, right?"

"I think so," Antonio said slowly, running his hand over the guitar case. "Yes I did. They're really small though."

"That's fine. It'll only be a short while," Francis said. "Keep calm. Here we go."

The glass sliding doors parted to admit Francis and Antonio inside the glossy lobby. There were security guards by the door, directing visitors to walk through the metal detectors and place their belongings in a conveyor belt that dragged the objects under a camera for inspection. Antonio carefully placed the guitar on the scanner and followed Francis under the metal detector doorway. He let out a sigh of relief when it remained silent. They were safe. He cast a quick glance at the screen that showed snapshots of the inside of the guitar case. Nothing suspicious was visible.

Francis swiped the guitar case from the table, ignoring the strange glances from the other visitors. He winked at Antonio through his dark shades and strode towards the desk where visitors signed in.

"Bonjour," Francis sang to the receptionist with short blond hair. "We're here to see Gilbert Beilschmidt."

The receptionist nodded and typed into the computer while smacking loudly on a piece of gum. "Like, what are you doing with that guitar?"

"Spreading the joy of music," Antonio said happily. "Gilbert likes to play the guitar, so we decided to bring it in."

The receptionist frowned, twirling her blond hair with her finger. "But Dr. Braginski totally said that it was like, wrong to bring things in for the patient."

"Sweetheart," Francis said smoothly, leaning forward and cradling his chin with his interlocked fingers. "The magic of music can beautify anything. It can heal souls and broken hearts even more than you can ever imagine." He whipped out a dark red rose out of nowhere and tickled the receptionist's chin with it. "If you like, I can show you such wonders."

"I'm like, totally all right," the receptionist said, leaning back. "If I do, that would be like, cheating on Lieut, and I so-o-o can't do that! But fine, you can bring it to Gilbert. He's in like, room three twenty-seven. Just go up to the third floor down to hallway twenty and you'll totally find him there."

"Thank you, my dear," Francis crooned. He grabbed Antonio by the forearm and whisked him out of the lobby towards the elevator.

"What do you think?" Francis chuckled, punching the buttons in the elevator. "You think I can score a date this Friday?"

"Why?" Antonio asked bluntly. Francis sighed and shook his head.

"Never mind. On to Part B," said Francis as the doors slid open. They stepped inside and pressed the button for the third floor. The doors closed and Francis immediately took off his sunglasses and tied his blond hair into an elegant ponytail. He unbuttoned his leather jacket and flattened the collar so that it looked less rugged and foreboding. Antonio also whipped off his shades and placed it on the top of his head.

"Do I look less badass and more gentlemanly?" Francis asked, admiring his reflection.

"Uh huh," said Antonio. "But you better button up your shirt a little bit more."

Francis groaned and reluctantly closed the gap.

"I thought you said girls liked badass," Antonio said confusedly.

"Yes, but these are nurses we are dealing with," Francis pointed out, straightening his shirt. "They would probably react more kindly to a suave gentleman than a rugged biker."

The elevator halted to a stop at the third floor and opened again. Antonio and Francis stepped out, checked both ways for any other person, and quickly strode down the corridor in search for Gilbert's room. Francis went ahead of Antonio as a lookout, his eyes carefully peeled in sight for any (potentially attractive) nurse.

"What room was it again?" Antonio asked.

"Sacre bleu, Antonio!" sighed Francis dramatically. "We've been coming here for who knows how many times and you still cannot remember?"

"I'm sorry," said Antonio bashfully. Francis waved his hand casually.

"Ah, no matter. Lucky that I am here to aid you."

Francis quickly found room three hundred twenty-seven. He practically kicked down the door to let him and Antonio inside. The door swung open and crashed into the wall with a bang.

"We're _he-e-ere_!" Francis sang on the top of his lungs before practically gliding into the room.

Gilbert nearly threw the book he was reading in surprise at Francis's dramatic entrance. His red eyes were so wide that he looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Oh my word!" Gilbert exclaimed, his back pressed against the headboard. "Couldn't even give me a warning?"

"Gilbert!" Antonio cried before rushing to Gilbert. He threw the guitar case to Francis, who nearly dropped it, before launching himself onto his best friend. He nearly crushed Gilbert in his arms.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Gilbert groaned when Antonio hugged him too tight. "Have you been lifting weights or something? You're breaking my bones!"

"I'm sorry," Antonio said. "And I haven't been lifting weights. You know I don't do things like that."

"True," Gilbert muttered, placing his book on the table. He turned to Francis, who was opening the guitar case. "I'm so glad to see you both. Francis, a little bird told me that you were going to be a judge for a cooking contest."

"It didn't happen to be _this_ little bird, did it?" Francis said teasingly before reaching inside the hollow acoustic guitar and pulling out a rather disheveled Gilbird. Gilbert's face brightened at the sight of his little friend. He held out his hand and Francis placed the bird in it.

"You brought Gilbird!" Gilbert exclaimed excitedly. "You guys are awesome! How'd you sneak him in? The doctor from hell wouldn't have allowed this."

"Well, those security checks don't bother to see if there's anything smuggled inside guitars," Francis said, chuckling. "But that's not it."

"What?" Gilbert asked confusedly as he put Gilbird on top of his head.

"Though they check if you have metal in your clothes," Francis said, digging into the inside pocket of his jacket. "They don't do a very good job looking for anything else." He pulled out a steamy, plastic bag of pancakes.

Gilbert took one look at the pancakes and burst out laughing. "You guys…you're crazy. You've got guts."

"Don't forget this," Antonio said, tossing a bottle of maple syrup to Gilbert. Gilbert caught it, extremely baffled. "Matthew gave it to us. He said he'd reckon you want some."

Gilbert could barely contain his laughter. His grin was so wide that the Cheshire Cat would feel intimidated. "If Braginski catches you, you'll be kicked out of the hospital for good. No, scratch that—he'd lock you in the hospital with the rest of us poor unfortunate souls."

"That's a risk we're willing to take," Antonio said. He gave Gilbert a paper plate and plastic utensils. "Francis, you should keep guard on the door in case a nurse decides to drop by."

"I already took my drugs, so they shouldn't be around in a while," Gilbert said. "You guys are prepared. Plastic forks and everything."

"We think ahead," said Francis before standing guard by the door. Gilbert placed the still-warm pancakes on the small table next to the bed and helped himself to his old favorite food.

"Do you still throw up when you eat?" Antonio asked nervously.

"I'm being spoon-fed baby food," Gilbert grumbled, pouring a generous amount of maple syrup on top of the hotcakes. "I'll eat anything even if I do throw up."

Gilbert took a look at Antonio's concerned face and chuckled. "Don't freak out, Antonio. I'm fine. Want some?"

"I'm good," Antonio said. Gilbert shrugged and eating the pancakes. "Is it good? Francis made them."

"They're awesome," Gilbert said, wiping maple syrup off his lips. "So tell me more about this cooking contest, Francis. Why are you willing to risk your life for this?"

"I'm used to Arthur's food; I decided to save another poor soul from having to deal with it," Francis said playfully. "Mm, there's a nice-looking nurse over there."

"You're supposed to watch out for nurses, not ogle at them," Antonio said.

"She's got quite the figure," commented Francis. "Is she crying?"

"Must be Nurse Katyusha," Gilbert said, his mouth full of pancake. "She's pretty emotional."

"Well, it's a rather depressing job, being a nurse," Antonio said.

"Oh no, that just scrapes it," Gilbert said, folding the paper plate and stuffing it into the wastebasket. "She'll cry if she is about to give someone a shot or if she accidentally bumps into someone with her cart."

"Speaking of attractive ladies," Francis said, "who is the receptionist down in the lobby? She's quite the catch."

"What does she look like?" Gilbert asked, smoothing down Gilbird's downy feathers.

"She's got green eyes and short blond hair," Antonio said. Gilbert frowned.

"I don't know any receptionists who look like that," Gilbert said.

"Are you sure?" pressed on Francis. "She wears adorable hair clips and she speaks in a Valley Girl accent."

Gilbert stared at Francis before doubling over with laughter. He was laughing so hard he had to clutch his stomach.

"That's—that's Feliks, you _depp_!" Gilbert gasped, his cheeks aching from smiling so much. "Feliks is a _man_, not a woman!"

Antonio burst out laughing, wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes. Francis could only stare at his two best friends, his cheeks tinged red.

"Well," Francis stammered, smoothing down his hair. "It doesn't make a difference anyways."

"I forgot. You'd go for anything that's slightly good-looking," Gilbert sniggered. Francis rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the curvaceous nurse.

"There are a lot of sunflowers in this room," noted Antonio, fingering a fake sunflower in one of the many vases.

"Tell me about it," Gilbert sighed as he let Gilbird perch on his finger. Gilbird desperately flapped its wings as if it wanted to try to fly, but it was hopelessly flightless and chained down by gravity. Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows at the bird as it hopped up and down before falling to the bed.

"I want to walk," Gilbert said automatically.

Antonio cast a bemused glance at Gilbert. "Why? You're sick."

"I'm not paralyzed," Gilbert said sharply. He placed Gilbird on the pillow and pushed his sheets aside. The legs that once carried him throughout many seasons of cross country were now thin and frail; it made Gilbert sick to the stomach looking at them.

"You're sick!" Antonio repeated desperately.

"It's not like I'm weak or anything!" Gilbert said heatedly. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, planting his feet on the cold linoleum floor.

"Now, Gilbert, be sensible," Francis said in a serious voice.

"I'm being sensible. Why do you think otherwise?" Gilbert argued.

"You've been bedridden for weeks," Antonio said. "Your legs…they won't be as strong as they used to."

"Maybe I can't run five kilometers in record time anymore, but I can still _walk_, can't I?" Gilbert said.

Antonio cast a desperate glance at Francis, who merely shrugged as if saying 'Let him learn.' Gilbert ignored the pessimism and pushed himself off of the ground. His body did not sway when he stood tall and he flashed a triumphant grin at Antonio. He took two steps towards Antonio and everything went downhill from there.

His legs shook under him and suddenly they lost all strength. They gave out under him and Gilbert collapsed, crashing onto the cold floor. Antonio cried out and quickly caught Gilbert before he hit his head. Even Francis was startled and left his post to go to his friend's side.

"I'm fine!" Gilbert grunted, pushing himself off the floor. "I just tripped over my own feet."

"No, you didn't," Antonio said softly.

"Yes, I did!" Gilbert contradicted. He leaned on Antonio for support. "I was just being clumsy." He stepped away from Antonio and steadied himself before tentatively walking again, his hand on the wall to catch himself in case he fell again.

"Gilbert…" Antonio said worriedly.

"If I don't practice walking now, when will they ever expect me to walk?" Gilbert said, slowly heading towards the window. He stumbled again and nearly fell to his knees, but managed to regain his balance. Antonio cringed every time Gilbert swayed.

"If the nurses see you trying to walk—" Francis started.

"I think they'll be more concerned that there's a baby chick in the room than the fact that I'm walking," Gilbert said. "I can do this. Don't try to stop me, Francis. Just because I'm sick doesn't mean I can no longer do anything anymore."

Francis kept quiet, watching Gilbert warily. Gilbert pressed on, clenching his teeth and his fists. His head was beginning to spin and throb. He urged himself to continue on, but the dizziness was too much for him. He slid to the ground; resting his head on the wall as his sight became hazy. He reached out a white hand; the window was just out of reach.

"Gilbert? Gilbert!" Gilbert suddenly realized that two hands were grabbing him by the shoulder and shaking him vigorously. His sight slightly cleared but the headache worsened. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to clear his head.

"I was so close," Gilbert muttered through gritted teeth. "So damn close."

"Let's get back to bed, Gilbert," Antonio said gently, reaching to pick Gilbert off the ground.

"No!" Gilbert snapped. He shook his head. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be that evil. It's just—I've been carried around way too much. I'm going to get there myself, even if it means crawling."

Gilbert took in a deep breath before climbing back onto his feet. He managed to drag himself over to the bed before collapsing onto the sheets. He couldn't bring himself to look at Antonio or Francis. He could already feel their concerned and sympathetic gazes burn his skin. His cheeks tingled with shame as he reached out and plucked Gilbird from the bed.

He had been walking since he was ten months old. Now he couldn't even stand straight without his head spinning.

"Is this how it feels like?" he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

"What?" Francis asked.

Gilbert pinched Gilbird's wing between his thumb and forefinger. He held it out, letting Gilbird flap its other wing frantically but with no avail. It struggled in Gilbert's clutch, dangling over the ground and unable to escape. Francis quickly pried Gilbert's fingers off of Gilbird's wing and cradled the bird. Gilbert stared at them with foggy eyes.

"A bird that can't fly," Gilbert sighed.

Francis looked down at Gilbird. The young chick was still shaken from being abused by its owner. It looked up at Francis with button eyes and flapped its wings. It didn't even move an inch.

"It won't be like this for long," Francis assured him.

Gilbert closed his eyes and leaned his head on the wall. Antonio glanced down at the guitar case on the floor and picked the guitar up, handing it to Gilbert. Gilbert took it without even opening his eyes. His fingers ran over the familiar strings, making them hum.

"Play something," suggested Antonio. "One of our songs. The Bad Company Trio will have another gig anytime soon and we want to be prepared."

Gilbert cracked a smile before practicing a couple chords on the guitar. "Which one, then? 'Paranoia?'"

"It's more fit for the electric guitar," pointed out Francis. "Try the more recent one that you wrote."

"Okay. Antonio, you better remember the lyrics."

"Of course!" Antonio laughed. Gilbert gave a crooked smile before strumming the guitar. Francis used the bedside table as the drums, striking the countertop with his hands. Antonio began to sing softly.

"_Sunflower, where's your sunny smile?_

_Where's the warmth you promised with your name?_

_Were they just lies you played along with?_

_Maybe it's just me but_

_You're more like a hopeless eclipse today…"_

Gilbert couldn't stop smiling even though his headache did not leave him. He struck the strings of the guitar with vigor, relishing in the clear and bold music. Francis kept the rhythm of the song going smoothly, not stumbling one bit even though they barely had enough time to practice this song.

_"Dandelion, why another day?_

_Why give yourself way_

_To a world that doesn't care?_

_You decorate the fields_

_With your golden plumes_

_But only God sees you shine and smiles down at you._

_Is it possible for me to see_

_Through the street lights and neon glows_

_From these flashing machines?_

_I want to see the world_

_Through unmasked eyes. _

_I have a heart of a cynic_

_I can't take more of these lies._

_My hope is running thin_

_I'm all sore inside_

_The dancing rain that falls from the night_

_Brings tears into my eyes_

_I don't want to forget_

_The endless sky_

_I'd rather be blinded by the sunrise_

_Than from these city lights."_

It was different from all the other songs they played. They usually favored the upbeat, rock-and-roll melodies than the mellow, mysterious tunes, yet there was something about this song that was rich.

_"If the TV screens flickered off_

_If the cars stopped in their tracks_

_Do you think we could see the stars_

_And hear the heavens laugh?_

_I'll never look at this world_

_In the same way_

_Dandelion, you're looking beautiful today…"_

Antonio's voice faded off as he glanced nervously at Gilbert. Gilbert's eyes were glazed and half-closed; Antonio thought that he might be about to collapse.

"Are you okay, Gilbert?" Antonio asked.

Gilbert nodded and turned his face away. Francis joined Antonio in his concern.

"Are you sure, mon ami? Your eyes were rather glazed. You aren't feeling sick, are you?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gilbert said thickly. "It was probably the trick of the light or something." He coughed and hid his face from his friends. "Uh—okay, I admit. I'm feeling a little whoozy, but it'll pass soon. Just—just give me a moment."

"Okay," Francis agreed.

Gilbert covered his head with his blanket. In the safety of the darkness, he discreetly wiped his wet eyes. He took in deep breaths, trying to calm himself down as he brushed away the tears. When he finally composed himself, he crawled out of the blankets and smiled.

"Okay, feeling better again," he said casually. "Where'd we leave off?"

**The failed attempt to allegorize the Berlin Blockade and air lift OTL. **

**Gilbird and the pancakes were supplies that the Soviet Union (aka Dr. Braginski) didn't want the Berliners (Gilbert) to have. He didn't want the Allies to access Berlin. America, England, and other Commonwealth nations flew in tons of food and fuel to the Berliners, which Francis and Antonio did by sneaking Gilbird and pancakes into the hospital without anyone knowing. **

**Just some extra tidbit of information, the Berlin Air Lift concerned only West Berlin. The Allies wanted to show USSR that they still had control over their side of Berlin even though the city was blocked out and technically in East Germany. The Allies didn't care to take East Berlin. (Though I still reckon it affected Gilbert more than Ludwig because Berlin is in East Germany and was the capital of Prussia)**

**I know—I left out lots of details and this was probably not the best way to represent the Berlin Air Lift, but hey, I was desperate -.-**

**And this time, I DID write the song that the Bad Company Trio sang. **

**I can so see Francis and Antonio in mafia clothing, can't you?**


	6. Gemini

**Soundtrack: Loud people's voices in a large commons during an insanely long Speech and Debate competition…**

**Review Replies to some Anonymous reviewers...**

**VegaAltair: I am very glad you think this story is good~ ^_^ I guess Ivan is the doctor in many stories because doctors have quite a bit of control when it comes to their patients and such. Though I have only seen one story with him being a doctor in it so far. Thanks for reviewing!**

**Kagami-tan: Thanks for the sweet review! Of course I will continue writing; nothing will stop me! It would be very heartbreaking to me if I abandoned the story. **

Father Time was not merciful today.

Gilbert stared at the clock with as much disdain as possible. Surely there was something wrong with the magnet inside the clock, or the fourth dimension, or the hands moving incorrectly.

The minute hand was passing the twelve of three o'clock. It should not be moving this quickly.

Gilbert crossed his arms and glared at time. It was definitely going too fast. If it really was three o'clock, Ludwig or Elizaveta would be here by now. He knew Elizaveta couldn't make it today because she was out of town for family business, but what about Ludwig? Ludwig had mentioned visiting Feliciano today, but he promised to come back on time. Ludwig was not one to back down from his vows.

Gilbert gazed at the two novels on the bedside table with boredom. He had finished the two books that Ludwig brought for him in one day each. He tried to reread them, but it didn't have the same thrill or anticipation as when he tried reading it the first time. Gilbert reached out to the books, but instead his hands found the video recorder and video tapes that he had requested Ludwig to give him earlier. He felt a cold pit of guilt and worry in his stomach before hastily withdrawing his hand.

Where was Ludwig?

Gilbert was cruelly reminded of the time he was waiting for Elizaveta in the courtyard for an answer to his date request. Sure, the outcome was more than pleasant, but it still gave him more stress and headache than he anticipated.

Maybe Ludwig was stuck in traffic. Then again, he almost always arrived earlier than visiting hours started. Even if he was stuck in traffic, he should be around by now.

Gilbert felt edgy with impatience. The next time he checked the clock it was three ten. He then tried to force himself to stop looking at the clock, but always cheated himself and snuck glances at it. Three fifteen. Three twenty-five. Three twenty-seven.

Ludwig was not one to be late. Even if it was for a party where everyone else arrived late, even the host, he would turn up on the dot. How could he possibly be late today?

Gilbert felt a twang of annoyance as he lied down on the mattress. Visiting hours only lasted from three to five in the afternoon. He relished every minute Ludwig, Elizaveta, or the Bad Company Trio was with him. He didn't want them to be wasted.

Drowsiness weighted down on his eyelids, blurring his thoughts and eyesight. Gilbert tried to brush it off, but it kept returning with even more power. He glimpsed at the time again and groaned. It had been a half an hour and Ludwig still did not make an appearance. Gilbert gritted his teeth. If Ludwig was in his place and Gilbert was the one visiting, he would always be on time every day to visit his brother. That was what he told himself, anyways.

But what did that matter? The point was that _he_ was the one bedridden and Ludwig was the one that was late.

Gilbert suppressed a yawn, but it only made him feel more tired. He closed his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Sleeping made time fly—perhaps if he drifted off now his wait for Ludwig would feel brief. He was extremely tired.

Yet every time he almost fell asleep, the telltale ticking of the clock always jolted him awake.

* * *

Gilbert lifted his head wearily from his pillow. The whitewashed lights were blinding him, dragging him out of his sleep. He could hear muffled voices speak to him, but he couldn't understand them. They were only rumbles, not unlike the sound of the wind and the drifting clouds on a clear day. Barely heard, almost as if it was just a figment of imagination.

Something warm was touching his hand and brushing his hair away from his forehead. He would've guessed Elizaveta but the fingers were too calloused to be hers. He took a sidelong glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Four o'clock. When had he fallen asleep? It was most certainly after three-thirty. He suddenly remembered the burning impatience that ate him away before he drifted into an uneasy sleep. He glared at the hazy figure with as much reproach as he can muster.

"Where were you?" he croaked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Feliciano was making pasta and begged me to stay," Ludwig explained. "It was going to be quicker, but accidents happened and the visit went overtime."

"It sure did," Gilbert muttered, gazing at the clock again. Visiting hours started an hour ago. Now Ludwig only had about an hour left.

"I brought the book you requested," Ludwig said, reaching into his back pack and pulling out _Catcher in the Rye_. "You already finished the other two?"

"Yup," said Gilbert. He reached over to the table next to the bed and pulled out the note pad. Gilbert crossed out 'Catcher in the Rye,' just like he had done with _La Sombra Del Viento _and _Zeit zu Leben und Zeit zu Sterben__._ Five more titles were left unmarked.

"Have you been feeling any better?" asked Ludwig.

Gilbert shrugged, tossing the pen and notepad back onto the table. He turned to the first page of the new book, drinking in the small words.

"If you start all the books so quickly, you'll go right through the list and run out of books you want to read," pointed out Ludwig tiredly.

"It's the only thing I can do in this place," Gilbert grumbled. The cover was still stiff and smooth with newness. Opening a new book was like cracking open a smooth mollusk to reveal the pearl of knowledge inside.

"Anything of remote interest happen around here?" asked Ludwig.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at Ludwig. "Oh yeah. Just yesterday the doctor from hell took us all bungee jumping on the Alps. It was riveting."

"You shouldn't call him that," Ludwig said sternly. "He's taking care of you."

"If I had it my way, I wouldn't even be here in the first place," complained Gilbert. "I should be practicing music with the Bad Company Trio or playing with Gilbird or anything more awesome than this."

"You know I wish that too," Ludwig said jadedly. "But since you're already here…"

"Whatever," Gilbert said hastily, waving a hand. "Have you ever read _La Sombra Del Viento_? It's actually really, really good."

"I never have time. You know that," Ludwig said. "I've still got to work, run errands, take care of the house, and help Feliciano with his studies."

"You've got to take some time off before your head explodes," Gilbert suggested.

"I don't want to do it now," said Ludwig. "What kind of visitor would I be if I just spent the whole time reading a book? That's sort of what you do when I come around."

"Only occasionally," Gilbert muttered. "I'll read it out to you, then! I've got awesome speaking skills."

"No, that's all right," said Ludwig. "I've got to leave soon anyways."

Gilbert stared at Ludwig as if Ludwig had just announced he was going to commit suicide by jumping off a skyscraper. "What? Why?"

"My boss made me do an evening shift along with my regular shift," Ludwig said. "I've got to leave at four thirty."

Gilbert turned to the clock. It was already four fifteen.

"Why'd he do that?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't know. It's what he wants," said Ludwig.

"Do you have to?" Gilbert pleaded.

"Yes. It's what my boss ordered me to do," Ludwig said firmly. "I have to listen to him."

"But can't you just tell him that you aren't able to?" asked Gilbert.

"No!" Ludwig retorted. "There's absolutely no other worker available during that time. I'm the only one that's free."

"You're not free," Gilbert argued. "You're with me."

"My boss doesn't see that as a valid excuse," Ludwig said coldly.

"What does he know about anything?" Gilbert growled. "All he cares about is how much money he can make in one day."

"Don't talk that way," Ludwig scolded. "Relax, Gilbert. It's only for today. The person who usually works at this shift is on jury duty."

"Of all shifts, of all people!" Gilbert cried. He cleared his throat when his voice began to break off. "Why didn't you think about it earlier before you spent extra time with Feliciano?"

"I lost track of time," Ludwig said. "It was an accident. I wasn't _trying_ to get myself working the evening shift. I didn't stay extra time at Feliciano's on purpose."

"I only get two hours with you," Gilbert said desperately. "Two out of twenty-four. That gives you twenty-two more hours to do whatever you want."

"I happen to have a lot of things going on in my twenty-four hours!" Ludwig argued. "I sort of have to—I don't know—work in my job? Not to mention my studies and the thousands of errands I have to run. Also, I had to stop by the bookstore to look for the books _you_ wanted! I barely have enough time to sleep—I average five hours a night at the most! You're very lucky I even manage to visit you practically every day!"

"Oh, your presence is such a _blessing_ for me," sneered Gilbert. "I'm not _worthy_ of your precious time, but you're such an angel to grace me with your company for one twelfth of our day."

"Stop that!" Ludwig snapped. "You could try being a little more mature in dealing with this!"

"Does my immaturity offend you?" Gilbert said mockingly. "Maybe it's better for the both of us that I'm here, huh? You won't have to be poisoned with my 'childishness' and I won't have to be stuck with a stiff-necked Nazi!"

"Have you already forgotten about your old life outside of this room?" Ludwig said hotly. "Not everyone's life is as placid as yours."

"Placid," Gilbert echoed, his voice dripping with acid. "Oh, this is the good life, isn't it? A utopia! Everyone should live a life like mine after they retire! It's seventh heaven!"

"It's a lot calmer than mine," Ludwig growled. "Every day of my life is nothing but chores."

"Is coming here a chore for you?" Gilbert snapped.

"Maybe it is!" Ludwig retorted.

Gilbert's eyes widened at Ludwig's words. For a moment he couldn't hear anything—not his own breathing, not the ticking clock, not even his own pulse. It was a deadened silence. He felt nothing but coldness inside of him.

"Mr. Beilschmidt." Unbeknownst to either of the brothers, Nurse Natalia had entered the room. She held onto a tall metal pipe with an IV bag attached to it. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave. It's time for Gilbert's medicine again."

Ludwig set his jaw before rising stiffly onto his feet and exiting the room. Gilbert couldn't bring himself to look at Ludwig leave. He fixed his gaze on the wall, clenching his teeth as he heard the door close behind his brother.

_Please come back._

Gilbert turned his face away as Nurse Natalia cleaned his arm and connected him to the IV pipe. He couldn't feel the long needle pierce his vein; he could only feel the sharp ache inside his chest. He determinedly looked away from Natalia, not even sparing her a glance. He was afraid that his eyes were watering or that his nose was red. Was Ludwig angry? Was he regretful? Or did he feel nothing?

"Is there anything else you need?" Nurse Natalia asked monotonously.

"Get the hell out," Gilbert said in a low voice. Natalia nodded as if she received this answer from every patient every day before leaving the room. When the door clicked closed, Gilbert let out a quivering gasp. He pressed his hand to his mouth, urging himself to swallow down the screams that wanted to burst through his lips. He tried to breathe, but it felt as if he could never get enough air into his lungs. He squeezed his eyes shut and closed his hand into a fist, biting down on his knuckle until teeth marks were embedded into his skin.

Only then did he finally open his mouth. He let out a strangled cry before sinking into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Mr. Beilschmidt."

Ludwig turned to see the same blond nurse that tended to Gilbert standing behind him. Her steely violet eyes scoured his skin like steel wool. Ludwig swallowed and nodded to her.

"Yes?" he asked tentatively.

"It's three o'clock," said Natalia in a sharp voice. "Don't you want to visit your brother?"

Ludwig hesitated and let out a sigh. It seemed hard to believe that he had fought with Gilbert only a day ago. The time after his visit seemed to stretch like taffy, making his evening last unbearably long.

"I don't know," Ludwig admitted. "He might…he might want some time away from me." He made his way to the door, ready to leave the waiting room and go back to his car.

"Mr. Beilschmidt," Natalia repeated, raising her voice slightly. Ludwig turned curiously at her. She crossed her arms, staring defiantly at him.

"I don't know about you," she said, "but if I let my brother be angry with me longer than it needs to be, I would be distressed beyond belief."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows at her. She did not falter; in fact, her voice strengthened.

"I personally believe that there is nothing more special and valuable than a brother," Natalia said, her voice bordering between dreamy and macabre. "At least, _my_ brother is. And if we ever get in any disputes for some reason, I wouldn't dream of leaving him and not trying to reach out to him." She shrugged and fixed the white bow on her head. "Of course, Brother and I never really fight in the first place, but if we did, that would be how I feel."

Ludwig cocked his head inquisitively at her. He barely ever exchanged any words with Natalia yet here she was spewing out her affection for her nameless brother.

"What are you trying to say?" Ludwig asked.

"I'll castrate you with this scalpel if you don't go to him right now," she said in a biting voice. Out of nowhere, she whipped out a sharp silver scalpel that glinted in the light. Ludwig stared warily at the weapon.

"I understand," he said hastily. "How did you know we were fighting, though?"

"He wouldn't talk," Natalia said shortly. "He wouldn't complain or insult Brother or make fun of Katyusha. As much as I prefer that, it's a sure sign that he was upset."

Ludwig raised his eyebrows in surprise. So Dr. Braginski was her brother? Gilbert wouldn't really insult anyone else in this hospital except his doctor.

"Well, come on then," Natalia said. She opened the door leading to the hospital rooms and led Ludwig out of the waiting room.

"Thank you," Ludwig said softly. Natalia didn't respond; she stared straight ahead. "You and your brother must be very close."

Natalia sighed. "That makes me very happy. If I had to marry someone, it would be him."

"You mean someone like him?" Ludwig corrected.

"No," Natalia said simply. They turned a corner down the second hallway. "My brother is very precious to me. I wouldn't want to break him. I reckoned that you felt the same with Gilbert also."

"You're right," Ludwig said. Natalia unlocked room 327 and gestured Ludwig to go inside. Ludwig offered her a small smile before tentatively stepping inside.

The door closed behind him. Ludwig felt his heart beating painfully with nervousness. Gilbert propped himself up on his elbows, gazing at Ludwig with surprised eyes. They stood there awkwardly in silence, just staring at each other. Both their tongues were tied.

"West—" Gilbert broke the silence, his voice strained.

Ludwig hurried to Gilbert's side. He kneeled beside the bed, his head bowed because he couldn't bring himself to look at Gilbert's face.

"I'm sorry, Bruder," Ludwig said in a pained voice. "I shouldn't have said any of those things—don't listen to anything I said yesterday. I was irritated since the morning and I didn't get any sleep—I even yelled at Feliciano and my boss. I didn't mean any of those things I said to you."

Gilbert blinked at Ludwig with surprise before reaching over and hugging him. Ludwig became rigid with shock before submitting to the embrace. Gilbert's arms were thin but still strong.

"It's okay, West," Gilbert mumbled. "I was a—what's the word?—a total asshole yesterday. I know you have a life and you certainly deserve one. I just—" Gilbert swallowed. It was hard to admit how selfish he had felt yesterday afternoon. He wanted Ludwig to himself and let no one else have more of his brother than he did. He wanted someone to share the pain with him so that the burden on his heart wasn't as heavy or alone. "—I was…jealous that you were able to do all those things. I even wanted to—to drag you down to my level so that I wasn't alone in this hellhole. You don't deserve that and I shouldn't have done any of that, but I'm a piece of shit."

"Don't say that," Ludwig said swiftly. He put his hands on Gilbert's lean shoulders. "You are _not_ a piece of scheisse. I should be the one who is saying that."

"Like hell you should," Gilbert said, smiling slightly. "I'm—my word, I never know the right way to say this. I'm sorry."

"As am I," Ludwig murmured. Gilbert grinned and rubbed his knuckles on Ludwig's bright blond hair.

"We're not going to spend our time together sobbing into each other's shoulders," Gilbert said boldly. "Come on. How about that book-reading session I offered?"

Ludwig gave a watery chuckle. "Whatever makes you happy, Bruder."

"What about you, though?" asked Gilbert.

Ludwig pulled a plastic chair to Gilbert's bedside and seated himself on it. "Anything that makes you happy will make me happy. I mean it."

Gilbert punched Ludwig lightly on the shoulder before taking the book off of the table. He turned the gilded cover and grinned devilishly at Ludwig.

"I'm warning you now, West," Gilbert said playfully. "This book is not for those with a delicate constitution or is weak at heart. It's not your typical mystery book."

"I think I can manage," Ludwig said, leaning back on the chair.

Gilbert smirked and turned to the first page. The pages scraped roughly against each other as Gilbert flipped through the introduction. He held it up to his eyes and cleared his throat.

"As awesome as I am at acting, I don't think an oratorical interpretation of this story will do it justice," Gilbert admitted. "This is the kind of book that would be awesome if you're all alone in a dark and stormy night."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," said Ludwig. Gilbert chuckled before starting the adventure.

"'I still remember the day my father took me to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books for the first time. It was the early summer of nineteen forty-five, and we walked through the streets of a Barcelona trapped beneath ashen skies as dawn poured over Rambla de Santa Mónica in a wreath of liquid copper…'"

**No historical content here...**

**Hehe, Natalia shows her Russian obsession in this chapter. First time ever writing Natalia O_O. **

**'Shadow of the Wind' is actually pretty freaky, but I think it's very interesting. Like Gilbert said, it's better to read by yourself than have someone read it out loud to you. But I never like it when people read out loud, so that's opinionated. **

**I've calculated my chapters and found out that the end of the story will be updated on my last day of school this year. Fitting, isn't it? **


	7. The Birds

**Soundtrack: Still stuck in an insanely long Speech and Debate competition…and 'Golden' by Switchfoot**

**Oh my goodness, I almost forgot to thank my anonymous reviewers!**

**VelgaAltair: Yes, yes, I must have my brotherly fluff moments ;) Mm, if all of them visited at once I think the chapter will die of too much awesomeness. Teehee~ Thanks for the review! **

**Kagami-Tan: Thanks for the lovely review! I'm glad it was a part of your day~  
**

"You actually _went_?"

"Mei was begging me to go, so I went with her!" Elizaveta defended herself as Gilbert stifled his laughter.

"And why did _she_ go?"

"Because Kiku was going! And he wanted to support Arthur!"

Gilbert wiped away tears of mirth from his eyes. "Even so, did you really think it was worth risking your life to accompany Mei to Arthur and Alfred's cooking competition?"

"I refused the free samples," Elizaveta said. "In fact, I think everyone refused them. Arthur's at least. Some people did try Alfred's burgers."

"Who won?" Gilbert asked.

"I think it was Alfred," said Elizaveta.

"You _think_?"

"Well, the judges never actually gave a straight answer, but judging their reactions…"

"Oh, that's got to be priceless. Spill."

"With Arthur's food, Feliciano was practically in tears," admitted Elizaveta. "Lovino beat up England for making Feliciano cry. It was the first time I ever saw him stand up to Arthur."

"Oh, that little cutie," Gilbert chuckled. "What about Francis and Yao?"

"Yao was brutally honest," Elizaveta said. "He said he'd rather take opium than try Arthur's food again."

"Ouch, that's actually pretty harsh," Gilbert commented. "And good ol' Francis?"

"What do you expect?" asked Elizaveta.

"I expect that every word that came out of Francis's mouth was to insult Arthur," Gilbert speculated.

"Well, you guessed right," Elizaveta laughed. "They had a huge row afterwards."

"Typical," snorted Gilbert. "What about Alfred's food?"

"About the same reaction, except watered down by a lot," Elizaveta giggled. "Admittedly, it was more entertaining to watch them all argue and try to cook the food than to actually eat anything."

"You watched them cook? Have you finally discovered why Arthur's food naturally fails so badly?"

"In all honesty, I couldn't figure it out," Elizaveta confessed, frowning. "I watched him and it didn't seem like he was doing anything wrong. I think he's just doomed to be a horrible cook for life."

"Ah, so he has no hope for the future," sighed Gilbert melodramatically. "I take it you had fun then?"

"I did indeed," said Elizaveta, grinning. "I even took pictures." She pulled out her ever-present camera from her purse and showed the pictures to Gilbert.

"Whoah, Francis's eyes are practically bugging out!" Gilbert remarked. "What was he eating?"

"Arthur's bangers and mash," Elizaveta said. "And look at this one."

Gilbert took one look at the picture of Lovino tackling Arthur and burst out laughing. "Arthur got attacked by the scaredy-cat! That's priceless."

"It was," Elizaveta agreed, stowing the camera back into her bag. "So how are you doing?"

"Why is that the only question everyone asks me?" Gilbert quipped. "Not 'what have you dreamed last night?' or 'What did the Dr. Stalin do to you this time?' It's always that."

"Why do you call him Dr. Stalin?" asked Elizaveta.

"Because he's from Russia and he's evil," Gilbert said darkly. "I feel chills run down my spine when I see him."

"If you say so," Elizaveta said. "What books are you reading now?"

"I'm almost finished with _Cather in the Rye_," said Gilbert. "I just got _Flyboys: A True Story of Courage_ two days ago."

"What's that book?" asked Elizaveta.

"About American flyboys during World War II," said Gilbert. "Eight of them were shot down near Chichi Jima by the Japanese and were captured as prisoners of war. That's all I know so far—I haven't finished it yet. I just know that the ending isn't going to be happy."

"There are hardly ever any purely happy ending in war books, especially if they're nonfiction," sighed Elizaveta. "Why is it that you're only reading depressing books?" She picked up the notepad from the table. "The fifth book you have is _The Pianist_. I've only watched the movie and it made me cry. The book is probably even more heartbreaking."

"World War II interests me," said Gilbert. "And all the books I desire to read just coincidentally happen to be tragic."

"Do you just not want to read happy stories?" asked Elizaveta.

"I don't know of any," Gilbert said, shrugging. He coughed into his fist and spat phlegm into the wastebasket. "What time is it?"

"Three thirty-eight," said Elizaveta.

"Really?" Gilbert murmured. "That doesn't sound right."He pushed himself higher up the bed and groaned. "Crap. Just a moment." He rubbed his forehead and winced, taking in deep breaths. Elizaveta put a soothing hand on his back.

"Do you need water?" Elizaveta asked. Gilbert shook his head, trying to ease his fatigue.

"Sorry about that," Gilbert muttered, rubbing his eyes. "They've been getting worse and worse. I can barely sit up. I can't even eat properly." His voice was brittle, even more delicate than glass.

Elizaveta bit the thin flab of skin on her lip. She stroked Gilbert's white hair affectionately. He smiled at her touch and closed her eyes.

"Your head isn't hurt, is it?" Elizaveta asked worriedly. "You had a nasty fall."

"I'm fine," Gilbert sighed. "I don't always hit my head, you know."

Just earlier Gilbert had stubbornly insisted that he tried to walk today, but he couldn't even stand up anymore. He fell to the ground immediately when he pushed himself off the bed. The look on his face when he couldn't even stand straight was absolutely heartbreaking.

"I don't know how you can read all your books and not get horribly dizzy," Elizaveta mentioned. "You can barely stay awake without feeling drained.

"I force myself not to," Gilbert said bluntly. "Admittedly it may not be the best choice, but I'm good enough to manage. A little dizzy spell can't bring me down."

"Just remember to rest your eyes," Elizaveta reminded him.

Gilbert groaned. "You sound too much like a mother. Or West. Perhaps both merged into one."

"That would be possible if he and Feliciano would just get together already," Elizaveta said.

"You're seriously still trying to pair them up?" Gilbert shook his head. "Your determination is overwhelming."

"So is your stubbornness," said Elizaveta. "I heard from Antonio that the Bad Company Trio has an upcoming gig at the boardwalk in a couple weeks. Care to share?"

"We figured I'd be all right by then," Gilbert said sheepishly. Elizaveta frowned worriedly and Gilbert sighed. "Come on, it's the _boardwalk_. Popular garage bands perform there! There will be a boatload of people there and they'll be relishing our awesomeness."

"Don't you think you should wait until you improve before you make any decisions?" Elizaveta said severely. Gilbert was actually growing worse than improving.

"It's pretty far from now," Gilbert convinced her. He rubbed his temples tiredly. "Things will be different by then. What time is it?"

"Three forty-three. Why?"

"That clock is too fast," Gilbert said to himself. "I'm going to have to tell that to Nurse Natalia. I hate it when clocks are too fast."

Elizaveta knitted her eyebrows but didn't protest. "How'd you three manage to score a show at the boardwalk anyways?"

"I'm not actually sure," Gilbert confessed. "Francis and Antonio gave me different stories. Antonio said that they just asked nicely and paid some money. Francis said he seduced the officiator. I'm actually going to lean towards Francis's explanation. Antonio couldn't understand seduction even if it grabbed him by the balls."

"He managed to pull through in that video of yours," Elizaveta said, smirking.

"I will no longer associate myself with that junk," Gilbert said stubbornly. "And it wasn't _all the way_. Just some making out and…hands flying all over the place."

"Still counts," Elizaveta said. Gilbert rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat as his voice grew more raspy and frail. He reached for the plastic cup of water and accidentally knocked it off the table, spilling the contents all over the floor. He groaned at his clumsiness and tried to sit up.

"No, I'll do it," Elizaveta said. She threw the cup into the wastebasket and mopped up the water with a couple sheets of paper towels. She looked up and saw the dejection on Gilbert's face. "It's nothing. You're just tired, is all. Why don't you sleep?"

"I sleep practically the whole time I'm here," Gilbert griped. "I don't need more sleep. I'm not tired. I'm just ungraceful."

"Are you sure?" Elizaveta said playfully. "If you were sleepy, I could have told you a bedtime story."

Gilbert gave her a crooked smile. "You could still read it to me now."

"No, it's not bedtime for you yet," Elizaveta teased.

"Yes it is. I'm in bed right now. It's bedtime," Gilbert said stoutly.

"You've got a point," Elizaveta sighed. "But usually bedtime would be right before you go to sleep."

"That would make it just-about-to-sleep-time. And not everyone sleeps in a bed. Kiku sleeps in a futon. Since he has no bed, does that mean he has no bedtime?"

"Your logic amazes me," grumbled Elizaveta, rolling her eyes. "Fine, fine, whatever. Perhaps it would be a nice change from all your depressing, tragic stories."

"I'd like to see you top those," Gilbert laughed weakly.

"I'll do my best," said Elizaveta. "Long ago in a kingdom far away—"

"Can the kingdom be the Kingdom of Prussia?" asked Gilbert.

"…sure. Long ago in the Kingdom of Prussia lived a young girl—"

"A princess?"

"No, she doesn't have to be. She's just a girl. She lived near the beautiful evergreen forest that was so enchanting people swore there were fairies hiding behind the jade leaves."

"Probably Arthur," Gilbert commented. Elizaveta chuckled at the comment.

"It was always healthy and beautiful. It provided food and supplies for all that needed it. The animal, insects, and plants lived in a harmonious circle, caring for each other and keeping each other alive. Humans were never able to enter the forest because the trees would bar their way in, but through the cracks between the leaves and the branches humans could tell the mystic beauty of nature. There are rumors that all the animals that live in the forest were angels, for they were as white as snow."

"That's politically incorrect, isn't it?"

"I didn't make the story. It's an old fairy tale. Old fairy tales are almost always politically incorrect," Elizaveta pointed out.

"True that," Gilbert said. "Now, what about the girl?"

"Right. Now, this girl was like an outcast to the city. She was very shy and poor, so no one wanted to be near her. One day, she was out in town when some of the townspeople started to bully her. She tried to ignore their jeers, but they began pelting her with dung and rotten fruit. She ran away and without noticing, somehow slipped into the forest. As she cried her tears, she came across a pure white sparrow."

"Wouldn't that be sort of like a dove, then?" Gilbert asked.

"No. All doves are white, but no sparrows are. This sparrow is different. Anyway, the sparrow said, 'What is wrong, little one?'

"'I feel so alone,' the girl mourned. 'It seems like everyone hates me. I have done no wrong but I am shunned from my neighbors. I feel so worthless.'

"The bird flew down to the girl and wiped away her tears with his delicate, downy wing. 'Don't cry,' he said softly. 'You are not alone. You are very precious to this world. Don't let go tonight.'

"'But who will care?' the girl said sadly. 'The people always tell me I'm just another so and so. They don't need me.'

"'I do,' the bird said genuinely. 'I want to be your friend.'"

"Where exactly is this story going?" Gilbert asked.

"If you don't shut up, you'll never know," Elizaveta argued. "The sparrow and the girl grew to be fast friends. They stayed with each other everywhere they went until no one knew the girl without thinking of the white sparrow. They were as close as brother and sister."

Gilbert closed his eyes, submitting completely to the story. Elizaveta leaned closer to him, whispering the tale into his ear. She idly stroked his hand with one finger.

"The sparrow was the girl's only friend. They cared and trusted each other more than they could for anyone else. The sparrow was the girl's first and best companion and she treasured her friendship with him dearly. However, as time passed, the girl noticed that the bird did not fare well. His white feathers were darkening to an ashen gray, he was withered to the bone, and he could barely sing anymore. The girl was worried and took him to the city's veterinarian, but the doctor couldn't find a way to help the bird.

"The girl begged the bird to tell her what was wrong, but he refused. He said it was something he rather not let the girl know because it would hurt her. But every day the bird grew weaker and weaker until the girl said she didn't care if she would get hurt. She urged the sparrow to tell her the truth."

"You said this would have a happy ending, right?" Gilbert rasped. His body was shaking under the thick pallid sheets. He nearly blended in with the pale bed.

"I'm not done yet," Elizaveta said.

"What time is it?" Gilbert repeated.

"Three fifty-four," Elizaveta told him dutifully.

"Is that what your cell phone says or what the clock on the wall says?"

"I just checked the one on the wall."

"Check your cell phone as well," Gilbert urged.

Elizaveta shrugged and pulled out her cell phone. "It's still three fifty-four."

"That doesn't make sense," Gilbert said in a hollow voice.

"Why do you keep checking the time?" Elizaveta asked. "We've got plenty of time."

"I want to know the time," said Gilbert. "Now. The sparrow and the girl. What happened next?"

"The sparrow finally admitted the truth to the girl," Elizaveta continued, casting a worried glance at Gilbert. "He said, 'I'm so sorry to tell you this, my friend, but I am fading. Soon I will be nothing.'

"'But why?' asked the girl. 'Are you sick? Are you dying?'

"The bird let out a quivering sigh. 'I wasn't meant to live like this. I can only survive through the magic of the forest. The forest and I are one—all the wild beasts are like this. Long time ago, the forest was ravaged by savage hunters and the animals were dying out until the trees struck a deal with them; if the animals promised to forever be their companions and never leave them, the tree will give them life, health, and protection. Separate, we are not strong enough to even breathe.'"

"Is it four o'clock yet?" Gilbert asked, a pained countenance on his face.

"Almost," Elizaveta said softly. "Relax. Don't worry about it." Her voice returned to its low, melodious whisper designated specifically for stories. "The girl asked, 'What can I possibly do to help you?' The bird said sadly, 'There is nothing I can do. I am breaking my promise. I have left the forest's spirit.'

"'And you?' the girl asked fretfully.

"The bird stayed silent. It shook its head sadly. 'It does not matter. I am your friend forever and always. I will stay with you.'

"The girl was shocked. She didn't want to let the bird go, but she hated to see him in such—such pain—"

Gilbert was breathing heavily now. His teeth were bared and his body was trembling. Elizaveta clasped his hand with her own, her eyes wide with fear.

"Gilbert?" Elizaveta asked.

"I'm fine!" he choked out. He clutched the sides of his head and shuddered violently. "Just—go on! Tell me the rest of it!"

"No," Elizaveta said shakily. "I'm going to get the doctor."

"Don't!" Gilbert cried. "I—I'm _tired_ of always c-crawling to the doctors every time something goes wrong! I can get through this myself. I don't need to depend on other people all the time!"

"Gilbert, you don't know what you're saying!" Elizaveta cried.

Gilbert shook his head. He bit his bottom lip to swallow down a horrible cry. He struggled for air as if he had just learned to breathe.

"I'm going to fight this on my own," Gilbert hissed. "This is _my_ battle to fight and I'm not letting anyone do it for me."

"Don't be so _stupid_!" Elizaveta screeched. "You need help, Gilbert. You can deny it all you want and try to bear it alone, but you won't get better without someone else. You can't be alone!"

Gilbert squinted at her, his burgundy eyes piercing her face. "Watch me," he said dangerously. It was better to be alone in this fight. No one else's immune system could help his. Other people's strength would not replace his own. It all depended on him and him only. He could be surrounded by the healthiest people in the world and it would not cure him.

Gilbert struggled to push himself up into a sitting position. His arms were shaking too badly to keep him supported. His face was extremely thin and sickly, as if he had just crawled out of the grave.

"T-tell the story," Gilbert coughed.

Elizaveta felt like she had lost her voice. "I forgot the ending," she whispered.

"Liar," Gilbert muttered. "Don't lie to me. I _hate_ it when people lie to me!" Always, every day, someone was lying to him. You're getting better, Gilbert. You'll be going home soon, Gilbert. Everything will be normal again, Gilbert.

Elizaveta gripped Gilbert's shoulder and shook him as if to reawaken him back to reality.

"We don't want to hurt you, Gilbert," Elizaveta said strongly. "Believe in me. I don't think you're weak or helpless; I just want you to be okay!"

Gilbert gazed into Elizaveta's earnest green eyes and his anger slid off his face, revealing the raw shock and hurt underneath. He bowed his head and took in deep breaths. His body still quivered like an injured bird.

"Visiting hours must be over by now," Gilbert said quietly.

"It's only four o' five," Elizaveta told him.

Gilbert glimpsed at the clock. "It's only four? It's got to be five. Time passes so—so quickly." He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the wall. Elizaveta sat back down on the chair.

"Did I hurt you?" Gilbert murmured, blindly reaching out to Elizaveta. Elizaveta took his hand and held it gently. They used to be much larger compared to hers, but now they looked bony and fragile.

"No," said Elizaveta. "It's okay, Gilbert. You can be mad sometimes."

"I don't want to be mad, though," Gilbert said. He seemed to be drifting in and out of sleep. His eyes were hazy and unfocused as if the life was sucked out from behind.

"Gil?" Elizaveta said worriedly. "Are you okay?"

Gilbert continued staring dazedly at the wall in front of him. Elizaveta shook him gently on the shoulder. He seemed to finally return to reality, blinking confusedly as if he had just awoken from hypnosis.

"Do you—do you want me to continue the story?" Elizaveta asked.

Gilbert frowned slightly, his eyes still covered in a dusty film.

"What?" he said bemusedly.

"The story," Elizaveta reminded him. "The sparrow and the girl?"

Gilbert stared up at her with utter confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

**I've realized that I've been whumping Prussia a lot lately…not just in this story, but also in this role-play for Hetalia I am in on Facebook. T'is very fun indeed. **

**Flyboys: A True Story of Courage**** is another one of my favorite books. It is a nonfiction history book written by James Bradley, the same man who wrote Flags of our Fathers and The Imperial Cruise. That book really affected me like no other and definitely made me see a new side of World War II, because it is from both the American and the Japanese eye-witnesses. I realized that everyone always becomes a monster in war. **

**I find it rather ironic how Gilbert said he's very interested in WWII, considering how it sort of led to the fate of Prussia…**

**Anyone else think Prussia's Marukaite Chikyuu was beyond epic?**


	8. The Last Song

**Soundtrack: Loud people's voices in a really big room. Yes, this was ALSO written during a speech and debate…the last three chapters were written on the same day in the same place -.-**

**Anonyomous review response:**

**VelgaAltair: Yahh, I want to watch episode 53 so bad, but I haven't found one that is subbed yet -cries-. Haha, how is this story affecting your Gilbo role-play? I role-play him as well on a Facebook thread. It's pretty sweet yo. He's so awesome to RP~ Thanks for the review! PruxHun forever!**

**I was going to trick all you readers with an April's Fools Joke, but then I realized that would be very cruel...  
**

"So-o-o, how about one more time?"

"Not until you finish your food," Francis said immediately, nudging the bowl of porridge towards Gilbert.

Gilbert grimaced and shook his head. "That is disgusting. I can't even tell what's in it. Rice? Mystery meat? Even Arthur would think it tastes horrible."

"It's nutritious," Antonio urged.

"Nutritious," snorted Gilbert. "Another word for absolutely unappetizing. Come on, no one would describe a food as nutritious unless no one dares to eat it. Come on, one more time."

"If you collapse in the middle of it—"

"I won't do it again, I promise!" Gilbert said loudly. "I just lost my balance. Guitar jamming makes me lose control."

"It looked a little more than a loss of balance," Francis said.

"What is everyone, my guardian angels?" Gilbert jeered. "I need to practice the guitar solo on this piece a little bit more. I'm getting rusty."

"It's perfect, Gil," Antonio said sincerely.

"I could make it more awesome if I got it down to the dot," Gilbert said, plucking the strings so quickly that it was impossible to tell which note he was stringing. His fingers flew around the chords as if he was playing a spirited piano piece.

"I can't believe we got a gig at the boardwalk for the party!" Antonio said excitedly. "It's an honor, isn't it?"

"An honor for _them_!" Gilbert laughed. "We're blessing them with our awesome skills!"

"So are we going to play every song we have?" Antonio asked.

"It would last a whole week if we did that," Francis pointed out.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," laughed Gilbert. "But I think we should narrow it down to our classics. Uh, let's see…'Paranoia?' What about 'Gone?'"

"That's a good one," agreed Antonio.

"I think 'Rosebud' is a nice one," Francis offered.

"You were _wasted_ when you wrote that song, Francis. If we performed that song, we would be thrown into the ocean," Gilbert said.

"We want songs that would make people happy and want to dance," Antonio said. "'Rosebud' has a good beat."

"Antonio, you don't even know what the song means."

Gilbert typed on the small laptop that Francis had brought along. He searched through the internet, trying to find perfect tips for guitar tricks and guitar chords.

"How about we do a song that's not ours?" Gilbert asked.

"That would be against our usual flow, wouldn't it?" said Francis.

"Isn't that stealing?" asked Antonio.

"Not if we give the original writers all the credit," said Gilbert. "And we're not getting paid or anything, so I think it's all right."

"What song are you thinking of?" inquired Antonio.

"This one," Gilbert said. He searched the song up in YouTube and played it for Francis and Antonio to listen to. Antonio sat on the bed, his eyes dazed as he concentrated on the music. Francis leaned on the wall, watching the music video on the screen.

"Hmm," Francis said, rubbing his chin. "It's a little different from our usual style. Sort of reminds me of the one you wrote not too long ago, Gilbert."

"What do you think about performing it?" Gilbert asked.

"I like it," Antonio piped up. "It's really touching."

"How is it that you will only listen to the lyrics of songs that aren't sexual?" Francis quipped.

"I never listened to sexual songs," Antonio said. Gilbert slapped himself in the forehead.

"Francis, there is one person you can never corrupt," Gilbert laughed.

"I beg to differ," Francis argued. "If it weren't for my influence, I'm sure Lovino would've never had that magical night in your guestroom—"

"Wait, how did you know about that?" Antonio gasped.

"It's very obvious," chuckled Francis. "I can tell when two lovebirds decide to proclaim their adoration to each other."

Antonio's cheeks blushed deeply. Gilbert laughed and slapped Antonio's back.

"So long as you don't go too far in your relationship so soon. Have you ever found your boxers yet?"

"No," Antonio said miserably. "I'm worried someone took them."

"Who'd take them?" Francis asked innocently, flashing a secretive wink at Gilbert. "Think about it, Toni. We were sleeping over at Gilbert's house with his father and brother keeping guard. No one could've possibly snuck into the room and stolen your boxers while we were all asleep."

"Maybe Arthur's fairies really did follow me," Antonio said, frowning. "He said he would curse me when I accidentally spilled tomato juice all over his blazer."

"There are plenty of other…undergarments in the sea," Gilbert assured him. Francis cackled in the background. "You'll be fine. Just go buy new ones."

"I guess," agreed Antonio. When he walked off to get a drink of water, Gilbert leaned in closer to Francis.

"You never gave them back? After all this time?"

"Why would I?" Francis chuckled. Gilbert rolled his eyes and kicked Francis in the groin. Francis was reduced to a fetal position on the ground, moaning and muttering French profanities.

"What's wrong with Francis?" Antonio asked when he came back.

"He stubbed his toe," Gilbert said simply. "Guess what I found out yesterday, fellows!"

"What is it? What is it?" Antonio asked excitedly, jumping onto Gilbert's bed.

"Oui…what?" Francis grunted, pulling himself up onto his knees.

"I got accepted into both LMU and the University of Heidelberg!" Gilbert announced excitedly.

Antonio let out a whoop of excitement and tackled Gilbert. "I knew you would! That's great! Do you get free ride on any of them?"

"Heidelberg is giving me free tuition and LMU gave me a scholarship," Gilbert said. "Geez…I can't believe it! I've been worrying about it the whole time."

"That is wonderful news, Gil," Francis agreed. "I was worried too. I wasn't sure how a dense blockhead like you could've possibly been accepted to one of the top universities."

"Oi, how am I a blockhead?" Gilbert demanded.

"It took you a year and a half to realize that _tu aimez_ Miss Elizaveta," Francis said good-naturedly.

"Hey, now," Gilbert said, blushing. "Even a genius gets a little confused about things like that."

"You already moved on to different books?" Antonio asked, lifting up two new novels. _Les Misérables _and _A Tale of Two Cities_ had replaced the other books that Gilbert had long finished.

"Of course," Gilbert said. "I've got so much time that I fly through them all in one sitting. I'm just that awesome."

"Ha ha," Francis said, smirking.

"Why are you laughing?" Antonio asked confusedly.

"Antonio, he's _always_ sitting," Francis said.

"Oh…"

"So I was thi-i-inking," Gilbert said in a singsong voice.

"Wha-a-at?" Antonio sang back.

"The Bad Company Trio's tenth anniversary is in two months and a half," Gilbert declared. "We must celebrate the time that the greatest alliance was ever made!"

"I concur," Francis said immediately. "Should we do more than just a prank?"

"Maybe," Antonio agreed. "But we haven't even thought of a prank yet."

"Let's do something messy," Gilbert said, grinning. "I really like the idea of paintball guns."

"Water guns?"

"No, Francis. As much as you'd like to see through white shirts…"

"Where would we do it, though?" Antonio asked. "We can't just run around the streets shooting people. That might get us arrested."

"I know!" Francis snapped his fingers. "Arthur and Alfred are having a party the same day as our anniversary! We can crash it! I think we're technically invited, anyways."

"How do you know?" Gilbert asked.

"The Angleterre cannot hide anything from me," Francis simpered.

"That's going to be wicked," Gilbert said jovially. "We'll do it halfway through the party and then run out of there before Alfred jumps us. What should we do after we stow away the guns? Go out to eat? I don't want to eat anything that comes from Alfred or Arthur."

"Agreed," Antonio said. "I'd go with Italian."

"Lovino has been rubbing off on you, hasn't he?" Gilbert asked, smirking.

"Ah, you aren't one to talk, sweet Gilbert," Francis laughed. "I've noticed before after you finally scored your coveted date that you took a liking to Hungarian food."

"It's good stuff," Gilbert muttered.

"What's this?" Antonio asked. He reached under the table and pulled out a video camera and a box of tapes. "What were you taping?"

"Oh, those? They're empty," Gilbert said. He felt a familiar chilling sensation at the sight of them. He hadn't used them yet, and if he was lucky, he would never use them. Maybe he could give them to Elizaveta so she could use it for her strange pleasures.

"Why'd you have them here for?" questioned Antonio.

"I was going to use them for some entertainment, but never really got to it," lied Gilbert. "Put them back."

Antonio obediently shoved the cardboard box back under the table.

"Here are the guitar chords for the new song, by the way," Gilbert said, pulling up a link. "I'll email it to both of you. Practice it, won't you? It'll be awesome."

"Aye, aye, sir," Antonio and Francis said, saluting. Gilbert saluted back to them. They stayed like that for a moment before laughing together. Formality did not suit them.

**Gilbert's colleges that he got accepted into are Ludwig Maxmilian University of Munich and University of Heidelburg. LMU is one of the highest ranking universities in Germany while University of Heidelburg is Germany's oldest. University of Heidelburg is actually one of the oldest universities in all of Europe. It was founded in 1386 in the Holy Roman Empire. Pretty big stuff, Gilbo. **

**I felt kind of bad whumping Gilbert all the time so I decided to give him a moment of peace before showering him with an onslaught of even more whumping…**

**DOES ANYONE HAVE A LINK TO A SUBBED VERSION OF EPISODE 53?! I'M DYING TO WATCH IT. **

**Oh my goodness….Prussia's new character song came out today…Mein Gott….I LOVE the harpsichord in the beginning~ (I'm a sucker for piano/violin rock, which is why I heart Skillet). It's not heavy metal like his other songs, but it's still uber AWESOME. LIKE A LITTLE BIRD. **

**Ah, I noticed that there are some people who are in desperate need of PruxHun action~ Don't worry, there will be more in the future. However, I don't want this story to focus solely on one aspect of their relationship. This story delves more into the friendship, family, bonds, and love that goes beyond PDA. They WILL have more of their moments, I promise, but mind you, this story's genre is not 'romance.' **

**I also found this music video on YouTube about the Bad Company Trio that I found very similar to my story. The song they used is 'Live Like We're Dying' sung by Kris Allen. I really like the song and the message it gave, and putting it with the Bad Company Trio made me think of my story~ I also like how it is different from all the other Bad Company Trio AMVs because most AMVs relating to them use rather…naughty songs. This song is like a positive alternative. Check it out! Just delete the spaces.**

**http: //www .youtube .com /watch?v= eYjI9H vP_1A**

**By the way, I figured that Gilbert and Ludwig's father was Germania. Though Germania is technically Prussia's grandpa, Germania looks NOTHING like a grandpa…and besides, the grandfather role is already taken in my story. So Germania is the daddy. **

**Next chapter will have the Baltic Trio and Russian siblings~ Oh dear…**


	9. Find a Stranger, Say Goodbye

**Anonymous Review:**

**VelgaAltair: I think I mentioned it in an earlier chapter what their roles are in the band. Gilbert is the lead guitarist, Antonio is the lead vocalist and bass guitarist, and Francis is the drummer. You can see the subbed episode on a YouTube link that Peridot Tears sent me on her review. Haha, yeah, the Prussia I roleplay is somewhat sarcastic and pessimistic also. However, I'm not sure if it's because of this story or not...**

**Soundtrack: Loud people's voices in a large room. Oh goodness, this was ALSO written during that speech and debate competition.  
**

**Inspired by: 'The Seagull' **

"It's time for your exercise, Gilbert."

Gilbert rolled his eyes and groaned inwardly. He could hear the rusty wheels scratching the smooth, hard floor. "I don't need a wheelchair to exercise, nurse. If you want me to keep fit, you should let me walk."

"It's the doctor's orders, Gilbert," Nurse Katyusha stammered. "You shan't walk until he confirms that you're well enough."

"He doesn't know how well I'm doing," Gilbert grumbled. Dr. Braginski only knew his white blood cell count and his weight.

"You could even meet other people and make friends," offered Katyusha.

Gilbert snorted. She was treating him as if he was a kindergartener. He didn't want to make new friends in this hospital. He was fine with the people he had outside the hospital grounds.

Katyusha wheeled the wheelchair next to the bed. He abruptly sat up and threw the blankets off of his body.

"I'm telling you, I can walk!" Gilbert argued. "If all it took to exercise was to sit on a chair, the United States of America would have absolutely no obesity problem whatsoever."

"But…" Katyusha whimpered, her bottom lip trembling. "D-Doctor Braginski said that you had to use the wheelchair. You aren't strong enough to walk—"

Gilbert scoffed. Well, what did Braginski know? He didn't know that Gilbert had spent nearly three hours every day practicing walking on his own. He didn't know that Gilbert poured the pasty porridge into the wastebasket and that it passed as vomit. He didn't know that Antonio and Francis snuck in pancakes every time they visited.

"And what would happen if I just stood on my feet and walked around?" Gilbert sneered. "Would he strap me down to the wheelchair and force me to use it?"

Tears welled in Katyusha's eyes. Gilbert felt a pit of guilt in his stomach. He had no grudge against Nurse Katyusya; it was Dr. Braginski that deserved every ounce of irritation Katyusha was receiving.

"Look," Gilbert muttered, softening his voice. "If I fall on my first step, I'll use the stupid wheelchair."

Katyusha wiped her eyes and nodded. Gilbert planted his bare feet on the smooth white floor. He urged his muscles to stay strong. After so many times of practicing and forcing himself to swallow down his fatigue, Gilbert reckoned that he could manage on his own now. He slowly stood up, making sure not to rise too fast or else he would become too dizzy to move.

"See? I'm fine," Gilbert said proudly, taking small steps around the room. "Are you satisfied?"

"Y-yes," Katyusha said quietly. She took Gilbert by the arm and helped him out into the corridor. Gilbert felt a small sense of pride rise in him as he made his way down the hallway. He told them that he could handle his health on his own. They should've listened to him.

"Where are we going?" asked Gilbert.

"To the small courtyard outside the hospital," explained Katyusha. "You could meet some of the other patients out there."

"Oh goody. Playmates," Gilbert said dryly. "If you are all so keen on making me walk, why don't you just let me walk home?"

"Mr. Beilschmidt, you're still in delicate condition," Katyusha sighed.

"But I'm getting better, aren't I?" argued Gilbert. "You didn't try to wheel me outside my room before. So doctor dearest must think that I'm making some progress."

Katyusha didn't answer. They traveled down to the first floor via elevator and towards the courtyard. Katyusha pushed the glass door open and beckoned Gilbert to come outside. Gilbert hesitantly obliged, squinting from the stinging sunlight. The sun's warm touch felt foreign on his skin, like a stranger's handshake. He breathed in the air and smiled. The air was probably coated with pollutants, bacteria, and fumes, and it smelled so much cleaner than the sterilized air inside the glass hospital.

"Come on," Katyusha urged, taking his elbow and gently leading him to the middle of the courtyard. It was merely pavement and stone benches; no trees, plants, flowers, anything. Plants carried potentially dangerous allergens.

"Gilbert, come meet the others," Katyusha called out. Gilbert approached the three patients that were all wheelchair-ridden. They looked very sickly and pale as if they were locked in dark closets their whole lives.

"Hey," Gilbert greeted, sitting down on a bench next to them. "I'm Gilbert Beilschmidt. You lot?"

"Eduard von Bock," said a boy with dark blond hair and glasses.

"Raivis Galante," stuttered a very small boy.

"I'm Toris Lorinaitis," said a boy with brown hair.

"Toris Lorinaitis," Gilbert echoed. "That name sounds familiar." His eyes widened and he gasped. "Whoah! We met in freshmen year, didn't we? I fought against you and someone else in a sparring duel!"

Toris furrowed his eyebrows before lightly gasping in surprise. "Gilbert Beilschmidt? My goodness, you're right! I can't believe we meet again!"

"In a strange situation, unfortunately," Gilbert said. "Who was the other guy? He was pretty good."

"He was Feliks," Toris said eagerly. "Feliks Łukasiewicz."

"That's funny," Gilbert said, frowning. "That's the same name as—"

"—the receptionist in the main lobby?" Toris finished. "They're the same person. Feliks is getting volunteer hours for graduation by working here."

"Wait—_Feliks_ was the one that fought with me? _Him_?" Gilbert exclaimed. Toris nodded, smiling slightly. "What happened to him?"

"What do you mean by that?" Toris asked.

"He seems to have put down the sabre for hair clips," joked Gilbert. Toris shrugged good-naturedly. "So what happened to you?"

"I was admitted into the hospital after freshmen year," Toris said sadly. "I've been staying here for three years. All three of us have, actually."

"Whoah," Gilbert said in a low voice. "Three years! What doctor do you have?"

Raivis flinched and began trembling like a rabbit. "D-D-Doctor Braginski."

"I'm so sorry," Gilbert said gravely. "How come you've all been here for so long?"

"Nothing terminal, but they take a long time to treat," sighed Eduard. "We've been under Dr. Braginski's care the whole time."

"I think we've been staying with him the longest out of all his patients," Toris commented, brushing some of his brown hair behind his ear. "Though Eduard sometimes gets to visit home every now and then. He's not as bad as we are."

"I can trick Dr. Braginski into thinking I'm improving," Eduard explained. "It takes a lot of psychological warfare to beat him."

"You know a lot about how he works, then," Gilbert muttered.

Raivis nodded jerkily. "I wish we d-didn't," he said in a pitiful voice. "We've been here for far too long. I want to go home but Dr. Braginski never l-lets me go home."

"Never? In all those years?" Gilbert gasped. Raivis gulped and nodded. "That's wrong! That's sick! He can't do that!"

"Yes, he can," Toris said exhaustedly. "He's the head doctor in this hospital. What he says, goes, even if it doesn't make sense to the rest of us."

"Why does he keep you three here?" Gilbert demanded.

"Maybe to keep him company so that Nurse Natalia would be distracted from him," Eduard muttered. Toris blushed and looked away.

"Yeah, I noticed. Why is she always clinging on to him?" Gilbert asked.

"They're brother and sister. So is Katyusha," said Eduard.

"But…but she's clinging onto him in a way that isn't platonic," Gilbert said falteringly.

"I don't really understand that either," sighed Toris. "Katyusha and Natalia have been working here as long as Ivan has."

"Ivan?" Gilbert asked confusedly.

"That's Dr. Braginski's first name," said Eduard.

"You guys are on first name terms?" Gilbert asked. Toris shrugged.

"We've known each other long enough to be," Toris mumbled. "I'm starting to worry that I may know him more than I know my family."

"What happened to your family, anyways?" Gilbert asked. "Can't they bust you out of here? Don't you have some sort of choice?"

"They're scared," Toris said quietly. "Scared that if I leave I might go into a relapse. Dr. Braginski told them my case was very serious…"

"Does that happen to all his patients?" asked Gilbert fretfully.

"Perhaps not all of them, but a good amount," Raivis mumbled.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite patients!"

Toris, Raivis, and Eduard stiffened immediately at the cheery voice. Gilbert felt as if snakes were wrapping around his throat when Dr. Braginski spoke. He swallowed hard and glanced over his shoulder to see Dr. Braginski making his way towards them, a sunny smile plastered on his round face.

"G-good morning, Doctor," Raivis stuttered, gripping tightly on the armrests of his wheelchair.

"Good morning, young Raivis," greeted Dr. Braginski. "How are you feeling today?"

"Much better, th-th-thanks," Raivis babbled. Eduard put a reassuring hand on his.

"Not well enough to leave the hospital, I imagine?" Braginski commented lightheartedly.

Raivis shrugged his thin shoulders. "I—I don't' know. I've been doing a lot…a lot better lately—"

"Oh, but poor Raivis," cooed Braginski. "Your health is very delicate as of now. If you even try to leave my care, think of all the things that could happen! A relapse would worsen your condition and maybe land you in an even dire situation. You wouldn't want to burden your family with more suffering on both parts, would you?"

Raivis gulped and shook his head vigorously. Gilbert felt a burning lump in his throat. His nerves were excited with indignation and his voice yearned to shout at the doctor.

"What about the rest of you?" Braginski asked Toris and Eduard. "Still feeling frail?"

"I really think I'm improving, Ivan," said Toris nervously. "It's been so long since I've seen my home. It isn't that far away from here either, so if I do get sick again, I can easily come back—"

"But Toris, it's much too risky!" Braginski exclaimed in honeyed tones. "If you leave, I cannot stop you from dying in your sleep and breaking your family's heart because you were so sick."

"Now, Doctor," Eduard said sternly when Toris's face grew very pale. "Even if Toris did stay in the hospital, you couldn't stop him from dying in his sleep anyways. No one can."

"All will come to the hospital again, wouldn't they?" Braginski said sweetly. Gilbert wanted to choke. The inside of his mouth tasted like bitter slime and he knew it had nothing to do with bile or vomit. Braginski suddenly turned all his attention to Gilbert.

"Gilbert." Suddenly, Braginski's face darkened. His eyes were wider and more dilated than usual, his childish smile broadened into a wolf-like grin, and his voice sharpened into a dagger. "You know what I said about going out of your room without a wheelchair. You could get hurt. Are you deliberately breaking the rules?"

"Nurse Katyusha let me," Gilbert said stubbornly.

"Nurse Katyusha knows better than to listen to a foolish patient," Braginski said dangerously. He took a step closer to Gilbert. Gilbert wanted to back away, but he was already pressed against the wall of the courtyard.

"I'm standing fine by myself," Gilbert argued as Braginski took a walkie talkie out of his lab coat and muttered into it in Russian. "I don't think I need a wheelchair if I can walk on my own."

"Oh, can you really walk by yourself?" Braginski said innocently. Before Gilbert could respond, the glass doors swung open. Nurse Natalia hurried to Braginski's side, pushing a black wheelchair.

"I've got your message, Brother," Natalia said swiftly.

"Thank you," Braginski said softly. "It seems that young Gilbert here is feeling a bit…weak right now."

Gilbert had no time to react. Braginski grabbed him by the arms and knocked him off his feet. Gilbert yelped as he was shoved into the wheelchair. He fought to stand back up but he felt two rough and large hands push down on his shoulders, hindering him.

"Let's take you back into your room, da?" Braginski murmured in Gilbert's ear.

The look in Braginski's cold eyes and something in his voice made Gilbert's skin crawl off.

* * *

He felt it slipping from his fingers.

Every tick of the clock vanished into the past. Did they exist? Had they ever existed? No one could prove what happened in the past. You can never bring back something that was already gone. The time was dead; it couldn't be brought back to life.

The seconds kept passing him. He could only lie on his bed and bade them goodbye.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Gilbert was draining away. He could feel his strength bleed out of him and seep into the mattress under him. He could barely clench his hands without struggling. He had grown old in a matter of months. He was eighteen years old and he was dying an old man's death.

Death in slow motion.

Gilbert gazed at the ceiling above his head. He already knew that there were exactly seventeen dead flies trapped inside the rectangular lights above. Seventeen dead and forgotten. Nobody cared. Nobody even knew where they were unless they too were trapped and forgotten in the same prison.

Tick.

Tock.

Gilbert and time were an hourglass. His strength and energy was slowly trickling away like the sand pouring away from the upper half. Every second was a grain of sand slipping down the tunnel into the empty void below.

No!

The sand was going too fast! Too many at once! Why did it not go one at a time? They were shoving each other, fighting to be the first to fall, clinging in clumps as they disappeared down the hole. They died in packs. Time was impatient. It wanted the job done quickly.

He was drowning in sand.

Gilbert slowly reached a hand out to the ceiling. He was covered in it. Choking, dry, colorless sand. It crowded his eyes and his nose and underneath his fingernails. He couldn't breathe. He was trapped and he couldn't get out. He couldn't ever escape.

The sparrow!

No…there were no birds here. Why sparrows? Gilbert racked his memory, but couldn't recall where the bird came from.

Gilbert wearily turned his pale head to face the clock. It was a black, ugly scar on the blank white wall. The blank white room. Everything was blank and expressionless in this room. Even Gilbert's sanguine eyes were too tired to show emotion.

Twelve. One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Did they count down hours or years?

The second hand was passing by too quickly. It jerked and paused, jerked and paused, cutting the seconds into equal pieces. Even when time was divided so neatly, the days flowed past Gilbert without meaning or comprehension, as if time was nothing but water flowing out of a pitcher, but sooner or later the pitcher will run out and be empty.

Was that how Toris, Raivis, and Eduard felt? The years passing by them, flying on swift wings? Three years. In three years he would be twenty-one. He should be finishing undergraduate college and moving on to graduate school. He should be finding a fiancée and determining his future. He shouldn't be trapped inside the hospital, behind thick glass walls like an insect caught in a jar to be shared in a show-and-tell session.

_HE WAS THE SPARROW—_

What?

There was no sparrow here. He hadn't seen a wild creature for ages. Even the birds did not dare to pass the windows of his room. Perhaps they did not want to catch the stench of death. Gilbert remembered reading an article about a cat that would dwell in the rooms of people that were about to die. Could animals really sense who would die soon? Would they come for him like the Grim Reaper?

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

How many seconds did it take to breathe in?

Did it waste more time to breathe if there was sand all around him?

Sand.

Wet, dark, packed sand weighing down on him like stone.

He couldn't move under it.

Breathe in.

The air tasted like metal and rubbing alcohol.

It was sterile air.

Lifeless air.

Breathe out.

Gilbert's breath was so weak.

It was from the sand. It had to be. The dead air, the choking sand, the second hand swinging past the numbers like a pendulum. They were all throttling him.

Gilbert gritted his teeth and exhaled deeply.

Not weak.

Nothing of his will ever be weak.

Clench fingers. Make fists. Force the weakness and tiredness out of the bones. They couldn't stay if they were forbidden.

Seventeen dead flies in the lights.

Did they die of heat? Of hunger or thirst? Exhaustion?

Or did they just give up?

Gilbert's mind flickered to the cardboard box under the table and he felt a sinking pit inside of him. He remembered the video camera and the tapes and everything that came with them.

Did _he_ give up?

The sunflowers stared at him with their blank, brown faces. They were mocking him. Gilbert could hear them laughing. They should be warm, inviting, and sweet. They were _sun_flowers. So why did the room feel so dead, so cold, so stifling?

_Sunflower, where's your sunny smile? _

Gilbert looked at his hands. They were white and bony. His wrist bones were protruding too much from his skin. His nails were growing long after not being trimmed in so long. They trembled; he curled his fingers into a fist and pressed it against his lips. They felt cold, like plastic.

It was funny how he was withering while the fake flowers were able to watch over him and gloat.

_Let the sparrow go._

What sparrow?

Gilbert gazed wildly around the room, expecting to see a bird perched conveniently near the ceiling. Perhaps a 'quoth the raven, nevermore' moment for him. Yet there was nothing. Nothing but his own mind torturing him.

Gilbert didn't understand. He did nothing wrong. He committed no crimes nor hurt anyone.

So why was he in jail?

He was strapped down with chains of illness and weakness. He was locked away from the rest of the world in a pure white prison cell. Even the window could not open. Only a thick square of glass shoved in the middle of plaster.

Home.

He wanted to go home.

He wanted to feel warm again, to laugh again, to smile, to sing, to run without anything dragging him down. He wanted West, Elizaveta, Francis, Antonio—hell, he could even deal with that priss Roderich any day.

Gilbert was slowly sinking. He was not heavy enough to make even the slightest indentation in the mattress, but he could feel the springs and the cloth swallow him whole like quicksand. It wanted to devour him, keep him prisoner just like it kept Raivis and Toris prisoner. The sheets were tangling him, tying him down.

Get away.

Don't let them get you.

Gilbert's breathing rate grew faster with feverishness. He tore off the blankets and threw them on the ground. He used all his strength to push himself up and off the bed. The floor felt as cold as ice and just as slippery. His basketball shorts were slipping off; the elastic waistband had become too big for him.

He turned swiftly to the clock on the wall. Its ticking was so loud Gilbert swore that people all the way in Africa could hear it. It was like the trumpets leading to the last day of the world.

Every tick felt like another drop of blood draining from his face.

Gilbert growled. He staggered towards the wall, unhooked the clock from its high tower and in a swift motion slammed it against the floor.

The plastic casing cracked and shattered. The face smashed and scarred like a human's. The arms splintered off like toothpicks as the batteries inside crackled. It screamed in horror as the cartilage in its face snapped from the force. Teeth were chipped and broken off. Cheekbones shattered.

Gilbert felt powerful.

Gilbert smashed the clock on the floor over and over again until he couldn't lift his arms anymore. The floor was covered in shattered plastic and springs. Time was not palpable. It was not invulnerable. Not to Gilbert. He wouldn't let it.

He threw the remains of the clock against the wall before climbing back onto his feet. He had to get out of here. They were coming for him; what, he had no idea. He just knew that he had a debt that he needed to pay.

Gilbert stumbled out the door without a second thought. He gave no thought of what he was going to do, where he would go, how he would escape. He just needed to get as far away from that prison cell as possible.

Why were these hallways so long?

Gilbert quickened his pace. His heart beat wildly in his chest. He was excited. He was going to be free. He needed to see West again. He wanted to see his friends and Elizaveta, but not in that room anymore.

"Gilbert!"

A voice called at him. It was eerily familiar, but not in a good way.

Nurse Natalia.

_Run!_

Gilbert heard shouts and cries behind him. He urged his legs to move faster even though they were dragged down by frailty.

Where were the stairs or the elevators?

He felt like he was Theseus trapped in the vast labyrinth while the ruthless Minotaur sniffed for his blood. They were coming for him, the nurses and doctors. He took a quick turn to the left to elude them.

"Stop him!" a voice shouted directly behind him.

He broke into a run. He didn't care where he was going, he just wanted to run. He tore through the corridors, past the countless doors that walled in other sickly prisoners. He could feel his head spin as if someone cut it off and used it as a Frisbee. His nails dug into his palm as his hands clenched into a fist.

Someone suddenly appeared before him. Gilbert couldn't tell where he came from, but that didn't matter because now he was trapped. The person grabbed his wrists and shoved him against the wall. There were so many voices screaming and yelling on top of each other. Gilbert's throat hurt; perhaps one of the yelling voices was his own. He could see Nurse Natalia's and two other doctors' faces hovering over him, their mouths yawing with loud words. Gilbert's own mouth spat at them as he flailed and fought for freedom.

_Let me go._

_LET ME GO!_

Gilbert felt something sharp and painful stab him in the neck. He tried to thrash and fight off the needle but it was too late. His thoughts grew slower and more sluggish. His eyesight blurred until he couldn't tell whose face was whose. He couldn't feel his limbs anymore. Did he ever have legs?

No.

Not now.

He needed to go home!

Gilbert was falling, falling, falling down the endless black hole, so dark that it was impossible that light ever existed.

Fading.

_Please just let me go…_

Black.

**Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia make an appearance! I reckoned that since the Baltic Trio had stuck around with Russia longer and were closely guarded by him during the Commie time that in the allegorical view they would be the patients that were the sickliest and who stayed the longest. **

**Gilbert's attempt to escape was supposed to represent the times when East Berliners tried to climb over the wall to West Berlin. In the beginning of the whole Berlin Wall era, escapers would be heavily punished if caught. Then the East Berlin soldiers guarding the wall were ordered to kill whoever was trying to go over the wall, hence Gilbert's attack by sedative and failure to escape. **

**Though just to clear things up, it wasn't completely impossible to go over the wall. Around 5,000 people successfully escaped. East Germans successfully escaped by a variety of methods: digging long tunnels under the wall, waiting for favorable winds and taking a hot air balloon, sliding along aerial wires, flying ultralights, and in one instance, simply driving a sports car at full speed through the basic, initial fortifications (quote from Wikipedia). 136 people had died trying to go over the Wall. **


	10. Not Alone

**Soundtrack: 'Not Alone' from AVPM**

"You can't come in."

Elizaveta blinked confusedly at Nurse Natalia, who was standing between her and Gilbert's door.

"Why not?" Elizaveta demanded. "It's three o' clock. Visiting hours."

"Brother has forbidden it," Natalia explained coldly.

"Why?" Elizaveta cried.

"Gilbert is…in an unstable condition at the moment," Natalia said. "He is not fit to receive visitors."

"That's stupid," Elizaveta blurted out. "Gilbert wouldn't mind me coming even if he had an oxygen mask."

"It's the doctor's orders," the nurse said sternly.

Elizaveta could feel anger boil inside of her. "Hang the orders! I don't care! I've got to see him!"

There was an earsplitting crash from behind the door. Elizaveta jumped at the sudden noise and flashed a confused glance at Natalia.

"What was that?" she asked.

"I already told you that Gilbert was in an unstable condition," Natalia said stonily.

"What happened to him?" Elizaveta cried. "When did this start?"

"He's been like this since he woke up from the sedative," Natalia answered briefly.

"Sedative?" Elizaveta's eyes widened. "Why did you have to sedate him? What did he do?"

Another crash was heard. It sounded like cracking knives. A voice was screaming from within and it made Elizaveta's blood curdle.

"Gilbert! GILBERT!" Elizaveta cried. "Miss, you can't just _keep me from him_! I need to be with him!"

Natalia scrutinized Elizaveta with narrows, purple eyes. She crossed her arms stubbornly.

"Brother has strictly forbidden it," she said resolutely. "Gilbert has constantly expressed his desires to be left alone. If you come to him, he might get angry and worsen his condition."

"He can't get mad at me," Elizaveta said desperately. Another crystal-clear crash came from behind the wall. "I don't care if he yells at me or hits me or throws something at me. I'll see him no matter what."

Natalia took in a deep breath and finally turned the doorknob. She glared at Elizaveta.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," Natalia growled. She wrenched the door open and shoved Elizaveta in the room.

The table that stood beside the bed was tipped over. All the books and pitchers of water were spilled on the ground, leaving a large splotch of water spreading over the floor. Medical equipment was thrown on the floor in the midst of shattered glass. There was a large scalpel stabbed in the middle of the clock on the wall, which Elizaveta noted was a different clock from before.

Something flew towards the wall and smashed into a thousand pieces. Elizaveta jolted at the close call. Dr. Braginski put a large hand on her arm, gripping it tightly. Elizaveta tried to wrench her arm away but Braginski was too strong. His face was completely calm even when Gilbert was completely destroying the room from his bed.

"Gilbert!" Elizaveta cried out. Gilbert turned towards her and she gasped. There was blood streaming down his arms and staining his shirt and blankets. His hair was completely disheveled and his face was even thinner and paler than before. His red eyes were sparked with a merciless lightning.

"I told you not to let in any visitors," Braginski said dangerously to Natalia. "Get her out of here."

"No," Gilbert growled. "_You two_ get the hell away from me!"

Braginski glowered at Gilbert. He gave a curt nod to Natalia and stepped out of the room. The look he gave Elizaveta made her blood run cold as he pushed her forward and slammed the door behind him.

Elizaveta tentatively approached Gilbert. Gilbert drew his knees to his chest and hid his face from her. She reached out and put a comforting hand on Gilbert's bloody arms. He flinched at her touch and shied away.

"Gilbert?" she said softly.

Gilbert didn't respond. He leaned against the wall behind his bed, his eyes blank and aloof. He let his arms drop limply to his side.

"What happened, Gilbert?"

"Nothing," Gilbert said shortly. His lips barely moved when he spoke. He continued staring into space, not even giving Elizaveta a glance.

"Don't even try that with me," Elizaveta said sternly. "You can't just let me see you bleeding and yelling and breaking everything in the room and tell me that nothing happened."

"It's nothing! I'm fine now!" Gilbert argued. His teeth were clenched together.

"They aren't here anymore," Elizaveta said. "You can talk to me."

Gilbert shook his head. Elizaveta found a roll of bandages nestled in the corner of a rolling cart that the nurse had brought in. She quietly took the bandages and moved to dress Gilbert's wounds. Gilbert flinched away from her.

"How did these happen?" Elizaveta asked.

"Blasted doctor tried to sedate me again with needles," Gilbert said through gritted teeth. "I wouldn't let him."

"Why'd he sedate you?"

Gilbert set his jaw, refusing to talk.

"Are you okay?" Elizaveta asked pathetically.

Gilbert turned his face away from Elizaveta. She reached out desperately for him.

"Why won't you tell me how you feel?" Elizaveta asked softly.

Gilbert shook his head vigorously. He was trembling and Elizaveta knew it didn't have to do with his sickness. Her heart broke at the sight of him in such a state.

"Please," Elizaveta said distraughtly. "I want to know how you feel. I don't want you to be sad or upset or angry. I want to help you."

Gilbert bowed his head. His shoulders were hunched. Elizaveta felt tears in her eyes. She held tightly on Gilbert's hand.

"Gilbert," she said in a shaking voice. "I know that I can't be that great of a help sometimes. I—I don't know the right things to say or to do and maybe I say the wrong things. Maybe I won't be able to—to say anything at all because there's nothing I _can _say." She swallowed. Her throat hurt and her voice was so shaky and quiet that she felt ashamed. She sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Even so—even so I want you to be honest with me. Please—don't bottle everything inside of you. It'll just hurt you."

Tears were streaming down her face now. Elizaveta cursed herself inwardly as she smeared the tears off her face. She gasped for breath, only to have more tears fall. She bit her lip, trying to suppress the whimpers.

"I care for you, Gilbert," she whispered. "So, so much that it pains me when you're hurt. I want you to know that I would do anything to make you smile again. Please—please trust in me. You're not alone. I'm here with you." Her voice broke and she burst into tears. She was practically digging her nails into Gilbert's hand. It hurt to breathe and she couldn't stop crying.

Gilbert slowly turned towards her. He reached over and pulled her close to his chest, listening to her breathing in. He brushed her long hair away from her face and kissed her tear-stained cheeks. Elizaveta wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close, mentally screaming at herself to stop crying but without avail.

"I'm a horrible person, aren't I?" Gilbert murmured into her hair. "I'm sorry, Eliza. I didn't want to make you cry or anything. It's just—" He hugged her tighter. "I don't know what to say. I do trust you; I just don't want to—to hurt you."

Elizaveta sniffed and swallowed down her tears. "Why—why do you think I'll be hurt?"

Gilbert hesitated. "It's complicated."

"Nothing's too complicated for you to tell me," Elizaveta insisted. "It's okay if I get hurt. I don't care."

"I do," Gilbert said solemnly.

"I don't," Elizaveta retorted. "I just want you to tell me the truth."

Gilbert sighed and nodded. Elizaveta began to dress Gilbert's bleeding wounds.

"Why were you so upset earlier?" she asked.

"Braginski was pissing me off," Gilbert muttered. "He kept telling me that—that I wasn't ever going to go home soon. That I was so sick that I could die if I'm not careful. He kept saying that I might stay in the hospital for a—a long time. He's been saying that for a while."

"Don't listen to him," Elizaveta said sternly. "I don't know why he's even saying those horrible things to you. Don't be afraid. You're Gilbert Beilschmidt, the fearless Prussian! You told Francis and Antonio and me no one needed to be afraid."

"I know," Gilbert croaked. "I know I said all those things. I believed them back then also. But now—I don't know anymore. He's right—I'm not getting better. I'm getting worse. Some days I think I'm all right and I get happy but then the next day reality is settling back in."

He ran a tired hand through his silver hair. "I don't want to believe Braginski. I try to convince myself that he's wrong every day but then I look at my health records and my progress charts—I'm afraid that he's telling the truth. He's making my dreams and hopes fade every day. I pray that he'd stop telling me that, but he keeps coming back day after day after day—" Gilbert swallowed and pressed a kiss on top of Elizaveta's head. "I'm sorry, Eliza. I wish you didn't have to know how I really felt. I don't want you to lose hope either, but you want the truth more than you want hope."

Elizaveta pressed her face against Gilbert's chest. She could hear his light breath as he breathed in. She felt dread pervade her nerves. Knowing that even he was losing hope made her world feel like the stars were falling from the sky and the moon had a black hole in it. But even so, she'd rather have him tell her what he truly felt instead of lies.

"Gilbert, listen to me too," Elizaveta said. "I know you feel that it's hopeless, but you've got to see something. I'm here with you. I believe with all my heart that you _will_ get better. You have your highs and lows—that's part of life. But even so, you're going to be okay. _You _trust _me_ now. You will be fine."

"How do you know?" Gilbert whispered.

"Because I said so," Elizaveta said stubbornly.

Gilbert gave a watery chuckle and nuzzled his cheek against hers. She breathed him in and drew him closer to her. She wanted to melt into his bones and be with him forever and always. His heartbeat be her heartbeat. His pain and love be hers.

"I love you," Elizaveta murmured.

Gilbert blinked in surprise. That was the first time she told him that. They even _kissed_ before they said that to each other. He closed his eyes.

"That's music to my ears," he said.

**After reading so many Prussia-Berlin Wall-Russia torture-angst fanfiction stories, I decided to try to do that in here. In many stories I read, Russia is always discouraging Prussia and telling him that he would always be one with Russia and never see Germany again. So that's what I did here—make Ivan tell Gilbert that he was dangerously sick and won't leave the hospital (Soviet Union) for a long time. **

**Next week updating might be a little sketchy because I'm busy during my usual updating time. A pity, because I think the next chapter is one of my favorites; that and chapter number fifteen. I'll either update an hour or two later on Thursday next week or update on Friday next week. Keep an eye open~ and please tell me which one you prefer.  
**

**Made a reference to a very lovely song in this chapter. It'll be a little harder to find because I didn't take a direct verse from the song and copy-pasted it onto the story. It's weaved into the sentences a little bit differently. And no, it's not in the chapter's name, which is by the way from AVPM. Can you find it?  
**


	11. We Are One Tonight

**Soundtrack: 'We Are One Tonight' and 'Hello Hurricane' by Switchfoot**

"I can't believe you were able to get the doctor from hell to let you out," Francis said as he carried the drum set to the platform.

"Dad pulled a lot of strings," Gilbert said happily as he sat on the stool and tuned his electric guitar. "A _lot_. And besides, Dr. Stalin can't really pull the whole relapse card because I'm doing better."

"If you feel faint, tell us," Antonio said worriedly as he practiced his bass guitar. "Maybe you should sit on the stool the whole time, just in case."

"No way! How am I supposed to head-bang if I'm sitting down?" Gilbert protested.

"None of our songs are much of a head-banging style," Francis pointed out. "The closest to music like that would probably be 'Tonight' and even then…"

"I'm just saying," Gilbert said stubbornly. "I'm not going to sit."

"We didn't bring the stool for nothing, you know," Ludwig said darkly, crossing his arms.

"It's for just in case," Gilbert insisted. "I promise; if I feel like I'm going to die I'll use it."

"The purpose of that stool is so that you _won't_ need to feel like that," said Ludwig.

"How many more minutes until show time?" asked Gilbert, pointedly ignoring Ludwig's response.

"Fifteen," said Antonio, checking his watch. "People are coming around already. Looks like tonight's going to be a good night."

"Awesome," grinned Gilbert. He practiced several power chords on his dark blue guitar. Even though it was a warm day, he still wore his dark blue military jacket. It looked like it was overwhelming him. "We're going to rock tonight. You've checked the microphone, haven't you?"

"Um," said Antonio. He put his lips to the microphone. "Check, check, one two three. We're good."

Francis rolled his eyes and correctly checked the microphone for Antonio. Gilbert chuckled and set the guitar down on its stand.

"It's a pretty day, isn't it?" Elizaveta commented, gazing at the setting sun.

"This whole day is awesome," Gilbert declared. He felt free and strong now that he was out of the hospital's clutches. He didn't care that he had to return in the near future; right here and now he was where he belonged.

"What songs are you going to play?" she asked.

"That's a surprise," Gilbert said, winking. "But they're pretty cool."

"Because you wrote them?" Elizaveta added teasingly.

"Yes, but not all of them are ours," Gilbert admitted. "We're doing some mainstream songs as well."

"Interesting," Elizaveta said. "You usually like doing your own thing."

"I know, but this particular song is really good, so I wanted to perform it," Gilbert said. "It'll be our last song."

"I'll look forward to it then," Elizaveta said. "Oh, hi, Mei!"

Mei ran forward and hugged Elizaveta. Her two older brothers were also in the crowd, Yao and Im Song.

"Gyaa~, you two are so cute together!" Mei gushed, dragging Gilbert and Elizaveta close together. The couple blushed but secretly locked hands with each other. "You know how long I've been waiting until you two became a couple? Seven months! I won the bet against Kiku, though. He thought it would take you two years."

Elizaveta laughed. "Aren't you going to Japan with Kiku later this summer?"

"Oh, yes!" Mei said. "I almost forgot! I can't believe it too; I was so excited for it for ages. I just have a request, Elizaveta…could you pick me up from the airport when I come back home?"

"Of course," Elizaveta said.

"I'm Flight 13 and I'll send you the date once it's settled," Mei said. "Thank you so much! Can't wait to see your show, Gilbert! Are you going to dedicate a love ballad to Eliza?"

"What?" Gilbert said, startled. Mei laughed and patted Elizaveta on the shoulder before running into the crowd.

Before Gilbert could process the question in his mind, a powerful force attacked him from behind. Arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed him tight like a corset.

"Vee~ Gilbert, you're going to perform today with Big Brother Francis and Antonio?" Feliciano gushed. For a little fellow, he had a _very strong _embrace. "That's great to hear! I'm so excited!"

"Feliciano!" Ludwig hurried to Gilbert and Feliciano and pried the little Italian off of his brother. "I told you not to lunge at people from behind like that."

"I'm sorry, Ludwig," whimpered Feliciano. "I forgot. I just got really excited when I saw Gilbert and didn't remember. You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Of course not," Ludwig said, growing red. Elizaveta giggled behind her hand. It was a good thing she brought her camera.

"Potato Bastard! Get your hands off my brother!"

Ludwig turned around only to receive a handful of sand pelted at his face. Lovino stomped over towards Ludwig and wrenched Feliciano out of his grasps while kicking Ludwig in the shin.

"What did that German idiot do to you, Feliciano?" Lovino demanded. "Did he drug you? Molest you? Insult you?"

"Big Brother, he didn't do anything!" insisted Feliciano. "I was being a bad boy so Ludwig needed to punish me!"

"WHAT—?"

"Lovi~!" Antonio rushed over and scooped Lovino into a hug. Elizaveta swiftly whipped out her camera and took as many pictures as possible as Lovino struggled to wrestle out of Antonio's strong grip. "You came to watch us play!"

"Don't flatter yourself, bastard!" Lovino snapped. "I don't care about your music! I'm just here so that the Potato Bastard doesn't kidnap Feliciano and then leave him in a ditch somewhere."

"Veee~ Ludwig wouldn't do that, would you?" laughed Feliciano.

"Don't listen to what he says! Germans always lie!" Lovino snapped.

"Do we now?" grinned Gilbert, putting a hand on Lovino's shoulder. Lovino squawked with protest and hurried away from Gilbert, clinging onto Antonio's arm. Antonio was nothing less than pleased.

"Ne, ne, Gilbert, do you want to eat something? You look peaky. I brought pasta~!" Feliciano said happily.

"We just had a dinner of pasta Bolognese, Feli! You should remember that; you cooked it for us," Gilbert reminded him.

"So?" Feliciano asked genuinely. Gilbert ruffled Feliciano's hair.

"I'm good, kiddo. Hey—" He pulled Gilbird out of his overlarge pocket and handed it to Feliciano. "West brought Gilbird with him to watch the show! Take care of him, will you?"

"Uwahh, he's so cute and small!" Feliciano cooed. He placed Gilbird on his shoulder and nuzzled the bird's yellow fluff with his cheek. "Aw, he's so sweet!"

"It probably has bird flu or something," Lovino muttered before dragging Feliciano away.

"Gilbert," Elizaveta said in a low voice. She grabbed Gilbert by the shoulders and gave him a blazing look. "You _need_ to help me get Ludwig and Feliciano together!"

"This again?" Gilbert laughed. "Sweetie, I learned my definition of matchmaking from Francis. I don't think that will end too nicely."

"But they would be absolutely perfect together!" Elizaveta moaned.

"Have you ever considered the fact that those two might be—dare I say it in front of you?—straight?"

"There's no way that Feliciano would be so adorable like that if he was straight," Elizaveta said fervently.

"He doesn't count at all."

"Why not?"

"He's Italian."

"So is Lovino, and look what he does to Antonio!"

Gilbert turned to see Lovino continuously stomping on Antonio's sandaled feet.

"I don't really know what's up with him," Gilbert admitted. "But most Italians are like Feliciano. Hey look! It's Alfred and Arthur!" He waved his arms wildly so that the two blonds could see him on the platform. Alfred spotted Gilbert and excitedly dragged Arthur towards the Bad Company Trio.

"Gilbo! Good to see you, man!" Alfred said, giving Gilbert a man-hug. "What's up?"

"I'm about to have the most awesome gig ever!" Gilbert declared, punching a fist into the air. "What about you and your boy toy? How are you two?"

"I am most certainly _not_ his—his 'boy toy!'" Arthur protested. Alfred laughed and shoved Gilbert playfully.

"Oh, you kid, man. Hey, you comin' to me and Iggy's party coming up in two months? It's gonna be sick."

Gilbert had the slyest grin on his face. He had already booked a couple paintball guns for the Bad Company Trio to use for that particular date. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Sweet!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Wait," Arthur interrupted. "That coincides with your anniversary date with Antonio and Francis, doesn't it?"

"How'd you remember?" Gilbert asked.

"I've known Francis long enough to know these things," Arthur muttered. "Not to mention that I've been the butt of many of your pranks for the past ten years. I managed to remember the date after that."

"Good times, good times," Gilbert said. "Hey, it's about time I start getting ready. I'll see you all, okay?"

"You better rock good on that guitar," Alfred beamed, "or else I'm forcing you back on the stage to do the whole concert again."

"Hell yeah!" Gilbert shouted. Alfred let out a hoot of celebration before rushing back to the crowd where the large party was gathering.

"Take care, all right?" Arthur told Gilbert. "Don't wear yourself out too much."

"I'll be fi-i-ine, Artie!" Gilbert said. "Go on and join the rest of them. Find your boy toy."

"He's not my—!" Before Arthur could finish that sentence, Gilbert laughed and shoved him off the platform and with the rest of the crowd.

"I'm going down with the rest of them," Elizaveta said.

"All righty. Go somewhere where I can see you clearly, can you?" Gilbert requested.

"Where would that be?" she asked.

"Anywhere that isn't behind a tall person. You're pretty short," Gilbert said. "Ow! Hey, I mean it in the nicest way possible!" he complained when Elizaveta grinded her heels on his toes. Elizaveta laughed and jumped off the platform into the throng.

When the time finally came, Antonio went up to the microphone. Francis was ready with the drums and Gilbert was prepared with his electric guitar. The stool was put off to the side.

"Hey, everyone!" Antonio said cheerily. "We're the Bad Company Trio, ready to entertain you for the night! We really hope you all will like our music and enjoy our performance—"

Gilbert rolled his eyes and took his own microphone.

"What my dearest friend Antonio is trying to say is, 'LET'S GET CRAZY TONIGHT!'" Gilbert yelled. The crowd whooped and whistled in excitement. "In the safest way possible," Gilbert added quickly as he cast a quick glimpse at Francis, who had a very mischievous smile on his face.

It was amazing how fast the sun set and draped the whole city with nighttime. The skies blushed from magenta and ocher to a rich and wise purple and indigo. The golden sun crawled under the horizon and revealed the silver stars and moon. The music was as loud and as ardent as ever. Though Antonio was the lead singer, he, Gilbert, Francis, the entire crowd all sang together with one tongue. Nothing could bring them down. Not even the dizzying spells that Gilbert went through and ignored during the whole performance. Not when the sky rumbled and dark, threatening clouds loomed over their heads. There was a roof over the platform anyways, so no rain could reach the electric equipment.

It felt magical to them to rock out on their instruments, playing their songs with all that they could while the teens on the boardwalk danced and laughed and had the time of their lives. It felt like a high school party since many of their classmates were there with them. They were powered through music, through passion, through energy and happiness. They were one tonight.

"Thank you guys so, so much for a wicked awesome night!" Gilbert yelled into the microphone. The mass cheered and whistled, clapping their hands over their heads. "We've got just one more song we want to share with you before the rainclouds start pouring down on us." It was rather fitting, actually. "And this song is going to be the best song we performed tonight, because WE DIDN'T WRITE IT! WOOH!"

The crowd laughed. Gilbert nodded to Antonio and Francis. Antonio flashed a thumbs-up while Francis nodded.

"We just wanted you guys to know that no matter what goes on in your life, no matter what crap you have to go through or what will come for you, it can't beat you down," said Gilbert. "You can stay strong and get through it because nothing can bring the army of people, the army of love." As he spoke, several people shouted with fervent agreement and whistled loudly. "If any of you guys know the song, feel free to join in. We're together in this!"

He began to strum the guitar. It was different from the other songs previously played. It was sweet and calm, yet still upbeat. Some of the people immediately recognized the song and cheered with joy before joining in with the band. Elizaveta remembered the song from the radio and her face broke into a blissful grin.

_"I've been watching the skies  
They've been turning blood red  
There is not a doubt in my mind anymore  
There's a storm up ahead…"_

Gilbert was laughing the whole time they played. He didn't even know why he was laughing. He just felt absolute happiness inside of him. It was the best he felt in ages. He glanced up at Elizaveta and saw her wide smile before laughing out loud and singing the harmony.

_"Hello Hurricane  
You're not enough!  
Hello Hurricane  
You can't silence my love.  
I've got doors and windows boarded up  
All your dead end fury is not enough  
You can't silence my love!"_

People cheered them on, spinning and raising their arms to the sky. They didn't notice the clouds creep closer over their heads, fat and dark with downpour. It didn't matter to them.

_"Everything I have I count as loss  
Everything I have is stripped away  
But before it started building  
I counted up these costs  
Ain't nothing left for you to take away…"_

It was riveting. It was powerful. It was strength that Gilbert had never felt before. Even though his knees grew weak and his head spun, he felt like he was the strongest warrior in the world. He could battle those storms no matter what they threw at him.

_"Hello Hurricane  
You're not enough!  
Hello Hurricane  
You can't silence my love.  
I've got doors and windows boarded up  
All your dead end fury is not enough  
You can't silence my love!"_

As Gilbert sang the harmony, he wanted to shout it at the top of his lungs. He wanted to throw his arms up to the sky and say it to the storms, let them know that they were not enough to make him give up. He had the strongest weapon on his side. He would prevail.

_"I'm a fighter fighting for control  
I'm a fighter fighting for my soul  
Everything inside of me surrenders  
You can't silence my love…"_

Elizaveta lifted her hands to the sky and sang with them all. As she turned her face to the sky, she felt cold drops fall on her face. Slowly at first, and then all of a sudden the rain began to pour down. It came down in buckets, as if a large sponge soaked up the entire ocean and rained it down on them. The people cheered even louder, punching their fists towards the sky and laughing as they were soaked. It felt beautiful. They felt strong.

_"Hello Hurricane  
You're not enough!"_

The world was spinning out of control. The strings were hard to press down on and standing straight began to feel more and more difficult. _  
"Hello Hurricane  
You can't silence my love."_

The people in the crowd joined hands and raised them up. Elizaveta grabbed the hands of two strangers beside her; it didn't matter that she didn't know them or that she would probably never see them again. Tonight, they were the closest that any group of human beings could ever be.

_  
"I've got doors and windows boarded up  
All your dead end fury is not enough  
You can't silence my love._

_I said Hello Hurricane!"_

The last guitar chord reverberated into silence. The crowd shouted and screamed with celebration, jumping, dancing, spinning in the rain. Their hair was sopping wet and sticking to their faces, their clothes hung heavily on their bodies, and they felt the best they ever could.

Antonio and Gilbert set their guitars down on their stands. They and Francis put their arms around each other's shoulders and stepped out in the rain with everyone else, letting the downpour drench them. They took a sweeping bow in front of the cheering crowd, their hearts beating wildly from the adrenaline rush.

"We did it," Francis murmured, hugging Antonio and Gilbert close. "We just made the best night this city ever had."

"Tonight was beautiful!" Antonio laughed, spinning and singing in the rain.

Gilbert watched as Francis and Antonio danced under the showers, bursting with happiness. He suddenly realized how thankful and lucky he was to be blessed with everything he needed. He lifted up his head so that he faced the rain. He held up his arms, letting the rain cool him as he prayed.

Thank you.

Thank you for the most amazing life anyone could ever have.

Thank you for joy.

Thank you for love.

Thank you for one golden day.

And then Gilbert collapsed.

**The song is Hello Hurricane by Switchfoot. It's an extremely amazing song that it even made itself on the title of this story and this chapter. **

**Heck, all of Switchfoot's songs are beautiful. **

**I just noticed that this story is jam-packed with references to Switchfoot songs…**

**Oh goodness, when Alfred spoke, I completely butchered the English language OTL. Why, Americans, why do we speak with improper grammar?! **


	12. Box Me Up and Ship Me Home

**Although I usually give all my reviewers a review reply, I just wanted to say it again: Thank you all so, so much for reading and commenting on this story! I know I say it a lot, but it really does mean a lot to me that you take the time to do so. It makes me feel like these stories actually have a purpose~ XD **

**When I look at my story stats and see readers from different countries clicking on my profile/stories, I picture the Hetalia characters on the computer frowning at my fanfiction thinking, "What the--?!"  
**

**Anonymous Review reply:**

**VelgaAltair: (*Gilbo high-fives back*) Hope you are feeling better! Feliciano's greatest weapon is the Hug!bear XD Alfred and Gilbert would probably either the best of friends or rivals if they ever interact in the manga. Either that or Alfred would be all, "Prussia? What's Prussia? Where's that? *looks at American map*" I would've felt bad for making him collapse in the middle of it. Besides, I wanted them to perform that song; it's one of my favorites! Thank you for reviewing! **

**Soundtrack: ---**

It had been a month since the Bad Company Trio performed on the boardwalk. It was almost unbelievable how the tallest skyscrapers could crumble down, how twenty-two thousand troops were defeated after a bloody, gallant battle, and how the wealth of health could go broke in such a short period of time.

Dr. Braginski finally let Gilbert return home. After much negotiation between the doctor and Gilbert's father, it was finally decided: Gilbert was going back. As much as the entire family was thankful for that, they couldn't help but feel a sinking sensation inside of them.

Mr. Beilschmidt knocked lightly on Gilbert's bedroom door. He heard a soft reply and opened the door. Gilbert was sitting up, leaning his back on the wall while reading the last book on his list—_The Things They Carried_. Gilbird was sleeping on top of Gilbert's tousled head.

"Hey, Vatti," Gilbert greeted in a tired voice.

"Good morning, son," Mr. Beilschmidt said. He picked up discarded clothes and blankets off the ground. "How have you been feeling?"

"Fine," Gilbert said simply. "You don't have to clean up."

"You can't live in a bedroom that's a pigsty," Mr. Beilschmidt said as he threw the clothes in a hamper and folded the blankets.

"If I couldn't, it would've been my natural instinct to clean it up myself," Gilbert pointed out. "When you tidy up my room, I can never find anything."

"I'm surprised you can ever find anything," said Mr. Beilschmidt lightly. "Is there anything you need?"

"I'm fine," Gilbert assured him.

"If you're hungry or thirsty or cold—"

"I know, I know. Bug West," Gilbert finished. "I do that on a regular basis."

"Ludwig isn't here right now," Mr. Beilschmidt said regretfully. "He had to work one last day before he can take a vacation."

"Okay," said Gilbert, shrugging.

"I have to go to work now," Mr. Beilschmidt sighed. "I wish I didn't but—"

"Don't worry about it, Vatti," Gilbert said, giving him a grin.

"Don't forget to rest your eyes from reading," Mr. Beilschmidt told Gilbert.

"Okay, got it," was Gilbert's cursory reply. Mr. Beilschmidt gripped Gilbert's shoulder. Gilbert patted his father on the back.

"Better get going or you'll be late," Gilbert reminded him.

Mr. Beilschmidt nodded silently. He made his way to the door before pausing right as he was about to exit. He turned back, quickly kissed Gilbert on the forehead and dashed off. Gilbert was surprised at first and a little happy; his father was not one to show affection. However, he couldn't help but feel doleful because he knew why his father suddenly became demonstrative.

After a couple minutes of reading Gilbert felt too faint to continue on. It was becoming harder and harder to read now that he was constantly plagued with bouts of dizziness and pain. He had only nine-tenths of a book left and he was stuck in a rut.

He placed the book on the nightstand and pressed the heels of his hands against his tired eyes. He could feel Gilbird shift on top of his head. He picked up the bird gently off its nest and cradled it in his hands. It was still drowsy and nuzzled into Gilbert's bony hands.

Would that bird ever grow into a chicken?

Gilbert chuckled at the thought of it. He couldn't possibly picture tiny little Gilbird growing up into a large, brown chicken. Or rooster. He couldn't remember which.

Gilbert coughed violently, nearly dropping Gilbird. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and bit his lip. He could taste blood in his mouth. He put Gilbird onto the table and grimaced before swallowing it down. There was no rushing to the ER this time. As if they could do anything about it.

He glanced down at the digital alarm clock. At least this one did not tick forever. It only flashed bright green light and play the radio if Gilbert wanted it to.

He slowly lied down, letting his arm curve to the ground. Even though he hadn't been in his own room for months, he felt like he had always stayed here. Why was that so?

His fingers grazed against a cardboard box under his bed. Curious, he pulled it out from under and immediately remembered. He swallowed hard as he ran his finger across the top of the box. He had been hoping that he would never open it. He was almost certain a month ago that he would escape the choice, but now the hope seemed bleak.

He tried to picture everyone's faces when they realized. Would they be happy? Heartbroken? Upset? He had no idea, and he wasn't sure if he would ever find out. Would he be able to know if that was the case?

_Why can't you just do it face-to-face?_

Gilbert chuckled in spite of himself.

It was such a simple question, yet he didn't know how to answer it.

_I'll try._

But he couldn't promise anything anymore.

Yet Gilbert doubted that he could tell them face-to-face. He didn't think he was strong enough to look them straight in the eye and tell them all the things that he wanted to say. Not without breaking down and making things worse.

And what if he hesitated and skipped out?

Gilbert slowly opened the box. The thick tape ripped off, thin shreds of brown paper clinging onto it. He pushed away the flaps and pulled out the video camera and three tapes. His hands shook. He was scared. He didn't want to do this, but what else could he do?

What if there was no chance?

Gilbert pulled a permanent marker out of the box and slowly wrote on the paper label on the tapes. How long would Ludwig be gone? He probably wouldn't come back home until three in the afternoon. It was eleven in the morning. Gilbert had plenty of time.

He threw the marker aside and took a deep breath. He opened one of the tapes and snapped it inside the video camera.

Was there any chance to back out now?

Why would he even want to back out?

Gilbert closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

_I'm sorry._

Who was he talking to?

_Everyone._

Why?

Gilbert opened his eyes and gazed down at the video camera.

_Because even I am accepting it._

He turned on the video camera.

* * *

Ludwig threw his car keys on the kitchen island before running up the stairs. Gilbert was finally home! Ludwig was nervous with excitement as he nearly tripped up the stairs. How long had it been since Gilbert last stayed in his bedroom? Ludwig had lost count of the weeks.

Ludwig was so jittery that he almost forgot to knock on the door first before entering. When he spotted Gilbert in his bedroom, he rushed over and enveloped him in a bear hug.

"West!" Gilbert cried out, hugging Ludwig. Gilbert was so small in Ludwig's arms; Ludwig was afraid that if he wasn't careful he might accidentally snap all of Gilbert's bones.

"Welcome back home, Bruder," Ludwig murmured.

"Thanks," Gilbert said, ruffling Ludwig's hair. Ludwig tried to smooth it down again. "Tell me what's new."

"Nothing," Ludwig said. "How are you feeling?"

"Come on, West, you ask me this every time you see me," said Gilbert. "Seriously, tell me what's going on lately. How's work? How's Feli? How are the dogs? I couldn't really reunite with them because Dad carried me up here right after I came back."

"Blackie, Berlitz, and Auster are doing fine," Ludwig said. "Work is as vigorous as ever. My boss is getting rather uptight and bossy. He wants the job done meticulously."

"Sounds like a certain younger brother," Gilbert said, smirking. Ludwig chuckled and pushed Gilbert teasingly. "What about Feli and Kiku? Hung out with them lately?"

"Yeah, we went bowling one night with some others," Ludwig said. "We competed against Arthur, Alfred, Yao, and Francis."

"Who won?" asked Gilbert.

"We were winning at first, but then they made a comeback and beat us," admitted Ludwig.

"Aw, darn," laughed Gilbert. "You—you tried your best." He cleared his throat before he was attacked with another coughing fit.

"Do you need some water?" asked Ludwig.

"I'm all right," Gilbert muttered. He put a cold hand on his eyes and tried to relax. "Help me sit up, won't you?"

"Why?" asked Ludwig.

"Because lying down too long makes me feel lazy. Please?" Gilbert gave Ludwig the irresistible puppy eyes. Ludwig groaned and reluctantly helped Gilbert sit up. He wormed his arm under Gilbert's shoulders and gently pulled him up, keeping a tight grip on Gilbert's thin shoulders. Gilbert leaned against Ludwig, his head resting on Ludwig's shoulder. He could barely sit up on his own.

"Is that better?" Ludwig asked.

"Mm," Gilbert mumbled, closing his eyes. Ludwig laid his cheek on Gilbert's white hair and held him tight, afraid that Gilbert might slip from his arms.

"I feel like a helpless maiden," Gilbert grumbled. Ludwig chuckled and held him tight in both arms.

"'Ay me, how weak a thing the heart of woman is!'" quoted Ludwig.

"Et tu, West?" Gilbert said, grinning. He reached up and ruffled Ludwig's hair.

"Do you need anything, Bruder?" West asked.

"Just stay with me," Gilbert murmured. "Tell me more about the other kids. Did Arthur get into Oxford like he wanted?"

"Yes, he did," Ludwig said. "He got accepted a while ago, actually. I just never remembered to tell you."

"Geez, West, you're losing it," Gilbert teased. "Do you have the memory of an old man? You sure act like one."

"I would've remembered if you asked earlier," Ludwig defended himself.

"Whatever you say," Gilbert said lazily. "Man, he must've been ecstatic. He has his whole future laid out in front of him now. I bet Alfred is sad that Artie is going to leave him behind in high school."

"If he is, he never shows it," Ludwig said, shrugged. "But he probably is. It's inevitable. They've been friends since elementary school."

"Much like Francis and Antonio and me, huh?" said Gilbert.

"I suppose, but Alfred and Arthur are different ages," pointed out Ludwig.

"True," Gilbert said. He gazed up at Ludwig. "Then like you and me. We have the same age difference as they do."

Ludwig felt a painful jolt in his heart. He drew Gilbert closer to his chest. Gilbert squirmed playfully. He tried to lean forward and sit up on his own but his strength gave out on him and he nearly fell out of the bed. Ludwig quickly caught him before he fell and held him close.

"Don't," Ludwig said. "Just stay still. I'll support you."

Gilbert nodded, his hopes sinking. He had been upset when he couldn't walk very well on his own. Now he couldn't even sit up.

"Do you have a bucket list, West?" Gilbert asked.

Ludwig stiffened at the question. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know," Gilbert said. "Tell it to me, please?"

Ludwig bit his lip. "If you insist."

"Yes, I do."

"Well," Ludwig started. "I want to spend one day on the beach without stress. Witness a solar eclipse. Scuba dive. Help someone through hard times. Find my passion. Donate blood. Mush a dog sled—"

"A dog sled?" Gilbert repeated. "Not your dogs, right?"

"They probably aren't up for the job," Ludwig admitted, smiling. "There's a couple more, I guess. Watch the Summer Olympics' opening ceremony live is another one. Finish my cuckoo clock collection, or at least broaden it. Travel abroad in Italy. I think that's about it."

"That sounds awesome," Gilbert said softly. "Haha, I like the cuckoo clock one."

"I guess it'll take me a while to get through them, if I can," Ludwig sighed.

"Perhaps," Gilbert said. "How much would traveling in Italy be?"

"No idea," Ludwig said. "A thousand dollars, perhaps? It isn't too far away, but considering Italians…"

Gilbert chuckled. He slipped out of Ludwig's arms and reached towards the drawer. With great effort he opened the drawer and pulled out a thick envelope from under his notebooks. He almost lost his balance and fell to the ground had Ludwig not kept a good hold of him. Gilbert gave Ludwig the envelope.

"What is this?" Ludwig asked.

"Open it," Gilbert said, nestling back into Ludwig's embrace.

Ludwig carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a large wad of checks. His eyes widened at the sight of the money and he quickly shoved them back in the envelope.

"I can't take this," Ludwig said sternly.

"You will," Gilbert said stoutheartedly.

"These are your savings from the bank!" Ludwig exclaimed. "There's no possible way I can take it. You were saving this up since you were four."

"I was saving up for college," Gilbert said carefully. "But with the—the free tuition and all, I don't really need it, do I?"

Ludwig had no idea how to respond. It felt like he was accepting some sort of unwritten deal. This was Gilbert's life savings. How in the world was Ludwig supposed to accept it and not suspect anything?

"I refuse," Ludwig said.

"Come on, West," Gilbert sighed. "I'm not going to be using it any time soon. My bucket list is pretty easy and cheap."

"Which is…?" Ludwig asked cautiously.

Gilbert pointed to the notepad with the list of books on the night table. "There's one part of it, I guess. The only one I wrote down. All the others I already completed. I got accepted into one of the best schools in Germany. I had the best gig ever with the Bad Company Trio. I helped build a Habitat for Humanity home. I donated blood. I kissed the most beautiful girl in the world."

"You lovebird," Ludwig said, smiling. "Have you finished the books yet?"

Gilbert's smile slowly slid off his face. He hesitated and shook his head.

"I can't read well anymore," Gilbert muttered. "I can barely keep my eyes focused and I feel really sick when I try."

"You're almost finished, though," Ludwig said.

"I know," Gilbert said blankly. "I've been trying really hard, but I can't do it anymore. When I try it feels like a sledgehammer is smashing my skull in."

Ludwig remained silent for a moment before picking up the book. "I'll read it out loud for you."

Gilbert turned towards Ludwig. "Aw, West, you don't have to do that—"

"There's no way I'm letting you drop a book when you're twenty-one pages away from the end," Ludwig said strictly. "That's against my morals. Now listen up. I'm starting."

Gilbert cracked a smile. "Thanks, West."

"Of course," Ludwig said. "You're starting a new chapter, aren't you? 'The Lives of the Dead.'" He frowned at the chapter title. "Interesting book, I suppose?"

"Riveting," Gilbert said.

Ludwig nodded silently. In a low voice, he began the last chapter of the last book.

"'But this too is true: stories can save us. I'm forty-three years old, and a writer now, and even still, right here, I keep dreaming Linda alive. And Ted Lavender, too, and Kiowa, and Curt Lemon, and a slim young man I killed, and an old man sprawled beside a pigpen, and several others whose bodies I once lifted and dumped into a truck. They're all dead. But in a story, which is a kind of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world…'"

* * *

"Is he sleeping?"

Ludwig nodded as he descended the stairs. His father hung his coat in the closet. His eyes were tired; his movements were slow and weary.

"I've cooked dinner for us," Ludwig said. "You might need to heat it up though. It's kartoffelpüree."

"Thank you, son," Mr. Beilschmidt said. "Has he been eating?"

"Not really," Ludwig admitted.

Mr. Beilschmidt nodded. "Well, we can't force him to eat. You're now free to have a break from work, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ludwig said quietly. "And you?"

Mr. Beilschmidt sighed and shook his head. "I tried to appeal to the boss but he is stubborn. You spend time with Gilbert for the both of us, won't you?"

"Of course, Vatti," Ludwig promised. He would've done so without Father asking. In fact, he would've spent every single moment of his day with Gilbert even if Father had enough time to stay with his oldest son.

There was no telling how much time that would be.

**On November 9th, 1989, the Berlin Wall fell, finally reuniting East and West Germany after decades of separation. It came down on midnight. Gilbert returning home to Ludwig was supposed to symbolize their was officially unified in 1990.  
**

**When Germany was reunited, the States of Berlin and Brandenburg were combined. Some suggested calling the proposed new state "Prussia."**

**I actually just took a test over the end of the Soviet Union, which included German Reunification. I studied by...writing...a...fanfiction...Yes, I am that nerdy. I only wrote one for German Reunification (that was all the time I had for) but on the plus side, I missed no questions on that section~ I don't really know if I want to publish it or not though; it's pretty similar to all those other German reunification stories on his website,  
**

**Tim O'Brien wrote _The Things They Carried_, the book Gilbert was reading. It's about the Vietnam War and it's quite an eye-opener. Haven't ever read a book like that before.I recommend it also~  
**

**Remember that one time where I said chapter 15 was my favorite? I made a miscalculation. It is actually chapter 16. Sorry, I just needed to clear that up…**


	13. The Five People You Meet in Heaven

**I want to give a shout-out to ikat92, who gave me possibly the longest review I ever received in my four years of being a Fanfiction author~ **

**Another shout-out to FluffyFly for being the 100****th**** reviewer of this story~ **

**And a huge thank you to all my readers! **

**Anonymous Review Replies:**

**A Very Sad Person: I'm so glad and honored that you took time out of your day to read this story! Ah yes, Gilbert's fickle health seems to frustrate people quite easily…thank you for the review!**

**VelgaAltair: Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're feeling better. So does Gilbert XD. Brotherly moments are love, no? :D True that about Alfred….but he would no doubt look at an American map first XD. **

**RainbowBunnyMonster~: Lisztomania? Does that have anything to do with the Hungarian composer Liszt? XD Well, the whole Hello Hurricane concert happened a month before chapter 12, and a month is more than enough time to be disillusioned, so I think Gilbert has enough reasons to be dejected right now ****. Though I guess symbolism-wise, Gilbert **_**shouldn't**_** give up hope and et cetera, but in all honesty, if I was in his situation, I'd be pretty doubtful as well. Thanks for the review!**

**Soundtrack: ---**

**Inspired by: 'Goodbye to the Clown' **

Usually when Gilbert was too sick to go to school, he would force himself to deal with it anyways and try to go through his daily schedule. Lounging in bed and sipping chicken noodle soup was for pansies in his opinion. If he wanted to grow stronger, he had to beat down the flu himself.

However, there were some days when the illness was too much and his mother would force him to stay in bed and coddle him to the point that he forgot what age he was.

Sort of like today, he supposed.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert sleepily turned towards the open door. His mother was inside his room, holding a steaming mug. Her thick blond hair was piled tight on top of her head in a style that Gilbert always jokingly thought Ludwig would use had he been a sister.

"Hi," Gilbert mumbled, rolling onto his side.

"Have you slept well?" she asked as she sat down next to Gilbert's bed.

"Sort of," Gilbert said, yawning. He rubbed his eyes. His sight was growing blurry and uneven, as if he was trying to watch a 3D movie without the glasses.

"I've brought tea for you," she said. "Can you sit up?"

Gilbert nodded and pushed himself into a slumped sitting position. His mother brought the mug to his lips and let him drink the piping hot tea. Gilbert could barely feel the drink on his heavy tongue.

"I've got a surprise for you," said Mama as she brushed Gilbert's silver hair from his forehead. Her fingers grazed across her skin and it made Gilbert shiver. Her touch felt like butterfly wings—so delicate and almost invisible.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked.

"Old Fritz is coming over to visit," she said, smiling.

"Old Fritz?" repeated Gilbert. "You never told me he was visiting! He lives an hour away!"

"He wanted to see you when he found out you were sick," she told him, placing the mug onto the table.

"Aw, he doesn't have to spoil me like that," Gilbert said, but he couldn't contain his smile. "Two hours to here and back. Is he going to stay with us?"

"We'll see," Mama said. "So perhaps you should rest a little more now so you won't be tired when he comes."

"I've rested plenty enough," said Gilbert. "Where's West?"

"He went out to the yard with Feli," said Mama. "Do you need him?"

"Nah, I don't," Gilbert said, shaking his head. "Why do you keep your hair up all the time, Mama? You aren't going to work today."

"It's easier to move around with my hair out of the way," answered Mama, fingering her bun. She pulled out her hair band and let her fair hair tumble down to her shoulders. "But if you want, I'll let it down."

"Elizaveta always said that you had really pretty hair," Gilbert said simply.

"She's very pretty also," Mama smiled.

Gilbert glanced up at the photographs of Elizaveta all around his room. "Yeah. She is."

"How's she doing?" asked Mama. "I haven't seen her around in a while."

Gilbert shrugged nonchalantly. "She's fine. There are other places to hang out besides our house, though."

"I see," Mama murmured. "Bring her around here again sometime, won't you? I'd love to see her again."

"Okay," Gilbert sighed, his eyes half closed. "I'm sure she'd love to see you again too. She's in love with your Black Forest Torte."

Mama laughed, her voice as clear and smooth as crystal. "You could always make it yourself, you know."

"I suppose, but I'm too lazy," Gilbert said saucily. Mama playfully pushed him and he chuckled. "When will Old Fritz come by?"

"Right now."

Gilbert didn't even notice when his grandfather entered his bedroom. He jumped with surprise at Old Fritz's voice and his face broke into a grin.

"Old Fritz! You've got great timing!" laughed Gilbert. Old Fritz smiled back at his grandson before wrapping him up in a warm hug. Gilbert realized with a jolt that Old Fritz's embrace was weaker than usual. "How's your health?"

"Splendid," said Old Fritz, sitting down next to Mama. "Looks like my little soldier had to take home leave."

"Unfortunately," Gilbert muttered. "But I guess it brought you over, so there's a plus. Are you staying for the night?"

"I think I'll just stay for today and then head home," Old Fritz admitted. "I just wanted to make sure you were doing all right."

"I'm not dying or anything; I'm just sick," laughed Gilbert. Old Fritz let out a soft sigh and smiled as he pulled Gilbert's blankets over Gilbert's shoulders. "Have you any awesome stories?"

"How about you tell me some for a change?" Old Fritz said. "Anything interesting going on at home or school?"

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't know. These past few weeks have been a blur. I don't remember much."

"You better change that or you'll become an old man before I do," joked Old Fritz. Gilbert stuck his tongue out at Old Fritz.

"Did you see Ludwig on your way up here?" Mama asked Old Fritz.

"Oh, yes, and his little Italian friend also," Old Fritz said. "They were playing some sort of adventure game. They were apparently trapped on an island and are trying to be rescued off it."

"They've been playing that game for days!" Mama laughed. "You'd think they would've figured out a way by now."

"They wrote out SOS on the lawn with sticks," Old Fritz told them. "Feliciano says that they're living off of fish and gyoza."

"Where'd they get the gyoza?" Gilbert asked.

"Not a clue. Deus ex machina," Old Fritz said lightly. "Have you been feeling any better?"

Gilbert frowned. "Everyone always asks me that. Why?"

"Because they care, Gilbo," Old Fritz said good-naturedly.

"It seems really repetitive though," Gilbert muttered.

"Lots of people ask you that question all the time?" asked Old Fritz.

"You wouldn't imagine," Gilbert said. "It's mostly West's fault, I guess. He's such a paranoid little fellow."

"Bruder?"

Gilbert looked up to see Ludwig at the door. Ludwig was carrying a small bag of cotton balls and a can of antibacterial wipes. He had a look of perplexity on his face. Gilbert waved lazily at Ludwig.

"Hey, West," Gilbert said in a soft voice. "You got off the island already?"

"The island," Ludwig repeated, frowning.

"Yeah, you know, the one you were stuck on," Gilbert reminded him testily. "Unless you were playing some other game."

"That …that must've been it," Ludwig agreed. He kept glancing around the room as if something was lurking in the dark corners.

"Are you hungry, Ludwig? I could start cooking dinner now," Mama said to him.

Ludwig didn't respond. He merely walked over to Gilbert's desk and dug Gilbird out of his little bowl of cotton balls before dumping the dirty cotton into the wastebasket. He mopped the bowl clean with the wet wipes and filled it up with fresh cotton.

"West," Gilbert said loudly.

Ludwig turned confusedly at Gilbert. "Yes?"

"Mama just asked you if you were hungry," Gilbert said.

Ludwig could only stare at Gilbert with disbelieving eyes. "What did you say?"

"You're having hearing problems today or something?" said Gilbert. "Mama asked you if she should start cooking dinner now or not."

"W-when?" Ludwig choked out.

"Just now! What's up? Did I give you the flu too?" Gilbert said impatiently.

Ludwig shook his head. "No. No, I'm fine. I just—I don't know. Maybe I'm having an off day today."

"You're telling me," mumbled Gilbert. "Hey, stay a while, won't you? Old Fritz is going to tell a story, won't you?"

Ludwig looked as if he had been stabbed in the back by his best friend. He gawked at Gilbert with incredulous blue eyes. Old Fritz laughed softly and shrugged.

"You seem a bit worn out, my boy," Old Fritz said. "Maybe you should rest first and then I'll share it."

"But I'm not tired," Gilbert insisted. "I don't want to sleep away your whole visit. That wouldn't be awesome at all."

"I care more for your wellness, Gilbo," Old Fritz told him.

"I don't like answers like that. I'd rather have an interesting day instead."

"Are you feeling all right, Bruder?" Ludwig interrupted.

Gilbert groaned and rolled his eyes. "See what I mean, Old Fritz? He always asks me that every time he sees me! It's like he thinks I'm going to drop dead or something!" He turned to Ludwig and gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, West, I'm fine. Seriously, though, asking me multiple times isn't going to speed up my flu."

"Flu," Ludwig echoed faintly.

"Uh huh," said Gilbert, nodding. "I'm fourteen years old. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself without you worrying."

Ludwig couldn't stop staring at Gilbert. After a while he finally was able to speak in a strangled voice.

"I've got to go now," Ludwig said hurriedly, turning his face away from Gilbert. "Um, urgent stuff. Sorry."

"You aren't going to stay for Old Fritz's story?" asked Gilbert.

"It's okay, Gilbo. I think that my visit should be brief anyways," assured Old Fritz.

Ludwig shook his head vigorously. "I really have to go." His voice was shaking and Gilbert became concerned.

"Hey, are you okay, West?" Gilbert asked.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Ludwig said hastily. Before Gilbert could ask again, Ludwig quickly swept out of the room.

"What's wrong?" Gilbert asked. "Was it something I said?"

Mama sighed and shook her head sadly. "I don't know, sweetheart. I think I should check on him. I'll be right back." She quietly stood up and in a fluid motion slipped right through the door.

"Maybe you need to sleep, Gilbo," Old Fritz said worriedly when Gilbert yawned and rubbed his eyes again. "Rest will help you get better faster."

"I don't want to sleep," Gilbert said quietly. "I don't want you to go away so soon."

"Who says I'm going away?" Old Fritz asked.

"If I go to sleep, you'll leave," Gilbert mumbled. "I don't get to see you all that often. I can sleep later."

"Gilbert," Old Fritz said gently. "I'm not disappearing for good so quickly."

"Who knows how long I'll sleep?" Gilbert asked. "If I don't wake up soon enough, you might be gone already and I wouldn't have spent any time with you."

"I'll be there when you wake up," Old Fritz promised. "Trust me. I refuse to go through that front door without you saying good bye to your Old Fritz."

"Not even if you're dragged out?" Gilbert joked.

"You'll see my claw marks on the floor if that's the case," Old Fritz laughed.

Gilbert sighed resignedly. "Fine, but only because you promised. And you better not backslide."

"Cross my heart," Old Fritz said determinedly.

Gilbert gave him a thumbs up before closing his eyes. As much as he had denied it earlier, he was extremely tired and had no idea why. He had spent his whole day in bed yet he felt like his limbs were heavy lead.

"Good night, Old Fritz," Gilbert mumbled.

Old Fritz bent down and kissed Gilbert on the forehead, even though Gilbert could not feel it. He smiled sadly at his sickly grandson before vanishing from reality.

_Goodbye. _

_

* * *

_"I can't do this, Feliciano."

Feliciano looked up from the mixing bowl. His face was smeared with some mascarpone cheese and egg yolk.

"What do you mean, Ludwig?" asked Feliciano as he continued to make his tiramisu.

Ludwig slumped onto the kitchen chair and rested his head in his hands. Feliciano pushed away his dessert and sat down next to Ludwig.

"I don't know how to deal with Gilbert anymore," Ludwig croaked. "Nowadays I'm afraid of even going in his room."

Feliciano didn't say a word. He sat silently next to Ludwig with his hand placed on Ludwig's back in hopes to comfort him. Ludwig buried his face in his hands, muffling his voice.

"I mean, I always knew that Bruder was…" Ludwig's voice choked up and he could speak. He swallowed hard before continuing. "I knew that, but I never expected—I never even dreamed this. I don't know what to do, Feliciano."

"Well, we can't stop it," Feliciano said.

"I know we can't!" Ludwig cried out. "That's what makes me so—so _angry_! The fact that I can't help Gilbert anymore or even comfort him in any way makes me feel like I just lost the fight."

"Vee, that's not right," Feliciano exclaimed. "Ludwig doesn't lose any fight! He's strong and can fight anything!"

"This isn't some sports game or debate competition, Feliciano!" Ludwig said hoarsely. "I'm not invincible, okay? I know that you think I'm—I don't know—'macho' or whatever you call me, but I'm not. I'm just as weak as everyone else."

Feliciano stared at Ludwig with surprise. It was true; he had always seen Ludwig as the tough and powerful fighter who could defeat any bully or conflict that came in his way. Seeing him break down and admit that he was weak and powerless shook Feliciano to the core.

"Don't say that," Feliciano said softly. "That's not going to help—"

"Nothing will!" Ludwig cried. His hands were now fists pressed against his face as if trying to shove the tears back into his eyes. "I can't even walk into his room anymore! When he speaks to me I have no idea what I should do. I'm always afraid how to react when he's talking to that empty chair as if Mother was sitting right beside him—" Ludwig shuddered and pressed his hand to his mouth. Feliciano stiffened in his seat, staring at Ludwig with worry.

"And then asking me if I w-wanted to stick around to listen to Grandfather's stories—" Ludwig choked out. "They've been dead for two years, yet he's talking to them and seeing them as if they've always been alive! It's as if he's losing his memory or his mind and no matter what I do I can't bring him back. Why can't it just be over?"

The kitchen was absolutely silent. Feliciano was shaking in his chair, wanting to reach out and comfort Ludwig but at the same time knowing he would never have the right words to say. Ludwig let his hands fall down from his face. His eyes were red but no tears fell.

"Oh Gott," he said in a shaking voice. "I didn't mean it like that. I don't want _him_ to be over. I just—I don't know what I'm saying anymore. I just don't know how to handle this. I wish I were stronger."

"Don't be sad, Ludwig," Feliciano said quietly. "You _are_ strong. You're the strongest person I ever know!"

"Then why can't I get through this?" Ludwig muttered.

Feliciano let out a soft sigh. He folded his hands on top of the table and gazed down at his fingers.

"I know it's a really hard time," he said gently. "I don't think there's a black-and-white solution to get through something like this. There aren't guidebooks or pamphlets that can direct you in a set amount of steps. But!" He put his hands on Ludwig's shoulders. "But, but but! That doesn't mean that there is no way out! Of course there is! Don't give up! Everything will be all right."

Ludwig gazed at Feliciano. It was so ironic that Feliciano, the boy who would run away from spirited debates or cry uncle right when a fistfight started, was the one telling him not to surrender. But that fact made a heavy weight disappear from Ludwig's heart. If even Feliciano still had hope, perhaps not all was lost.

"Thanks, Feli," Ludwig sighed sitting up straight. Feliciano beamed and hugged Ludwig. Ludwig accepted it awkwardly.

"Gilbert will get through," Feliciano murmured. "Trust him, okay?"

Ludwig closed his eyes. "I will."

But those were only words.


	14. Number the Stars

**Soundtrack: 'Only Hope' and 'Stars' by Switchfoot**

"You know, Ludwig would kill us if he found out we let you on the roof."

Gilbert shrugged and folded his hands behind his head. "What he doesn't know won't kill him."

"What he does know would kill us, not him," Antonio corrected as he closed the window. The night was warm and comfortable, like a smooth black blanket. The skies were so clear that Gilbert was certain he could see the entire galaxy on display.

"You're not cold, are you?" asked Francis as he gingerly sat down on the roof next to the other two.

"Heck no. It's perfect temperature out here," Gilbert said. "I should've just slept outside my whole life. Screw having a bed. The stars are softer."

"What happens if it started raining?" Antonio asked.

"I'd get wet," Gilbert said simply. "But hey, if our ancestors dealt with it without any other choice, I think we'd be able to get through it, right?"

"They didn't have the _frère allemand paranoid_, though," Francis pointed out. "I'm sure that if they had someone equivalent to Ludwig with them, they'd be forced under a roof. And to eat all their vegetables."

"Shh, not so loud," Gilbert urged Francis. "Ludwig's bedroom is right next door."

They all turned their heads to face the curtained window on the other end of the roof.

"Great choice," Francis muttered. "Of all the roofs we decided to climb on, we chose the one directly next to Ludwig's window."

"Just keep your voice down and we'll be fine," Gilbert assured him.

"What if he thinks we're robbers or kidnappers?" Antonio asked worriedly.

"It's not like he has a gun or anything," Gilbert said. "Okay, maybe a metal baseball bat, but that's about it."

"That's comforting," Francis grumbled. "Are you comfortable? Do you feel all right?"

Gilbert averted his gaze. "Of course. I'm fine, Francis. You don't have to worry all the time."

"We can't help it," Antonio said softly. Gilbert let out a sigh and bit his lip.

"You really don't," Gilbert mumbled. "It won't do any good. I don't want anyone to worry." He closed his eyes. "But I make them, don't I? All the time."

Francis didn't know what to say. There was no point in denying it; everyone around Gilbert was nervous and anxious for him.

"It makes me think—" He hesitated before shaking his head.

"Think what?" Antonio asked.

"Never mind," Gilbert said briefly.

"Why won't you say it?" Antonio said.

"It's not important," Gilbert argued.

"Of course it is!" Antonio exclaimed. "Anything you think or want to say is important. I want to know how you feel."

"It's nothing, I promise you!" Gilbert protested.

"Gilbert, please tell us," Francis insisted. "Don't keep secrets from us. We never do; don't start now."

Gilbert sat in silence, his eyes still closed. He finally exhaled deeply and opened his eyes, gazing at the pale moon.

"I sometimes wonder if coming back home was the better choice," Gilbert murmured. "Maybe I should have just stayed in the hospital."

"Why?" Antonio whispered.

Gilbert wished he didn't say anything. He felt foolish for doing so, but he couldn't just stop now. Francis would have his head if he suggested it.

"I know how much stress I cause for Vatti and West," Gilbert said quietly. "They have to give up their time to look after me and be with me and—and make sure I'm all right. West can't sleep anymore; I know it. He tells me he does, but I know for a fact he stays up in case I suddenly need help in the middle of the night. The only reason why he's actually getting a wink of sleep today is because you two are here."

He draped a hand over his eyes, breathing in the warm night air. There was no hiding the shadows under his family's eyes and the darting glances of pain and worry every time they come near him. Gilbert swore that Vatti had gray hairs now.

"I don't want to distress them like this," Gilbert mumbled. "I was already—already enough trouble in the hospital, sucking up their money to pay the bills, but at least they don't have to constantly worry about me—"

"Gilbert, stop it," Francis said immediately. Gilbert paused, slightly surprised. Francis took Gilbert's hand and lifted it off his eyes. "Don't you talk like that anymore. You have absolutely no idea what you're saying."

Gilbert blinked up at Francis in surprise. Antonio nodded fervently in agreement with Francis.

"It's so much better that you're home, Gil," Antonio said softly. "You don't have to be near that horrible doctor anymore. You're home; you're closer to us. You're where you _want_ to be, not where you think you should be."

"I know I want to be here," Gilbert said. "But West and Vatti—"

"—would much rather have you home than far away in some godforsaken, prison of a hospital," Francis finished swiftly. "Are you that thick that you don't understand how much they want you here?"

Gilbert swallowed hard. "I'm just worried for _them_," he admitted. "I don't want to hurt them more than I can control."

"The funny thing about love is," Francis said cheekily, "it endures through sickness and in health."

"I'm not married to them," Gilbert said.

"Does it make a difference?" Antonio demanded. "Family can still love each other unconditionally through sickness and in health just as much as couples. And I am positive that that is the case for yours."

Antonio reached out and took Gilbert's hand, squeezing it gently. Gilbert felt the heavy burden inside of him lighten as he returned the grip.

"How many more days till our awesome tenth anniversary?" Gilbert asked, wishing to lighten the mood.

"Um…" Antonio stammered. He stared at his feet. "About two weeks."

"So close!" Gilbert exclaimed. "That's awesome. I can't wait."

"Yeah," said Antonio, smiling. "Can't wait. Maybe we should make a back-up plan, though. In case you can't make it to Arthur and Alfred's party."

Gilbert sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

"What about a movie night?" suggested Francis.

"Disney," Gilbert added stubbornly. "Nothing lovey-dovey though."

"There goes Disney," Francis quipped.

"There has got to be something…" Gilbert said.

"Even the Three Musketeers movie has romance in it," laughed Antonio. "You can't avoid it, Gilbert."

"Curse Minnie Mouse," Gilbert muttered. "All right, throw in the suggestions."

"'Pan's Labyrinth.'"

"Please no," Antonio said, shivering. "It brings back bad memories."

"'Artemisia.'"

"That's the movie of Italian artists having sex, isn't it?" Gilbert confirmed. "Let me think about it—no."

"And it's all in French," Antonio complained.

"What about 'Letters From Iwo Jima?'" Gilbert asked.

"I don't want to _cry_ on our tenth anniversary!"

"Maybe we should go back to Disney," Francis said.

"'Alice in Wonderland' has no romance," Antonio pointed out.

"In all honesty, I don't understand that story. At all," Gilbert said blankly. "'Peter Pan?'"

"We watched that already five times, though."

"'Tarzan!'" Antonio shouted. "Let's just go with that."

Gilbert tapped his chin contemplatively. "Yeah, that's a good movie."

"There's romance, though," Francis pointed out.

"But the movie is awesome…"

"Shh!" Antonio hushed them. "Before Ludwig hears you!"

The other two quieted down immediately. They stayed silent for a moment before finally speaking again in hushed tones.

"I feel like we're partaking in crime, Gilbert. Maybe we should go back inside."

"Antonio, live a little!" Gilbert chuckled. "You've got to live life loud."

"Yes, but not so loud that Ludwig will think we're criminals!" Antonio pointed out.

"I didn't mean it literally," Gilbert said. He gazed up at the velvety black night and let out a sight. "Look how clear the skies are tonight! I can see every star."

"It is fascinating," Francis agreed, craning his neck towards the sky. "Look at them. Is it just me or does it look like the stars are dancing?"

"No, no, you're right," Antonio gasped. "They're sparkling so much. It's like they're spinning."

Gilbert closed his eyes. Antonio and Francis stayed silent, drinking in the beauty of the night. Gilbert could almost hear the stars twinkling and singing. How did he never hear it before? It was smooth and fragile, like butterfly wings.

"Oh, oh, oh!" Antonio's voice cried out. Gilbert opened his eyes to see Antonio excitedly pointing to the sky.

"We forgot!" Antonio said. He clasped his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. "Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight!"

Francis laughed and ruffled Antonio's head. "Which one are you speaking to? Can you even remember which was first?"

Antonio was too engrossed in his wishing that he did not respond. Francis gave a crooked smile before looking up at the sky, a silent wish on his lips.

Gilbert watched the stars dance in the galaxy. He breathed in the sweet night air, the highs and lows of life. It filled up in his lungs and for a moment he wanted to shout and sing, but he was too weak for that now.

_Star light, star bright…_

If all the stars had shown up at once, would his wish be ten times more likely to be granted?

_First star I see tonight…_

The streetlights were dimmer than usual, and Gilbert was glad. He could finally see the sky in all its entirety and majesty, no longer blinded by flashing screens or neon glows. The starlight was small and barely visible, but it was so much more beautiful.

_I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight…_

What did he want, though?

He took a quick glance at Francis and Antonio. Antonio was still making his wish, a small smile on his face. What did he wish for? For Lovino to finally show his affection? Gilbert cracked a smile at the thought. Francis was also gazing at the sky with half-closed eyes.

It only just now registered in Gilbert's mind that all three of them were in their sleeping clothes at midnight hanging out on a rooftop.

He certainly had the best friends in the whole wide world.

He turned to face Ludwig's bedroom window. He hoped that they hadn't woken Ludwig up. He wondered what Ludwig was dreaming about, if he was dreaming at all.

The stars were so beautiful tonight.

Gilbert laid his head back down.

_I wish that they would be happy._

_Ludwig, Eliza, Francis, Antonio, everyone._

_Let everything work out so that they will be at peace. No more stress, worries, anything. _

_Whatever happens to all of us, let them be happy._

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert opened his eyes to see Antonio and Francis around him.

"Let's go back inside," Antonio urged.

Gilbert nodded. "Okay, he said."

He cast one last glance at the nighttime sky and bade the stars goodbye.

**The reason why Gilbert was starting to doubt his returning home and wondering if it was better that he stayed in the hospital is because East Germans are rather nostalgic of their communist days. They feel that they were better off under the communist rule than reunified with the West because now that they have capitalism their economy is struggling a lot and they are still dealing with a lot of problems even after about twenty years of reunification. Most former USSR nations seem to feel that way as well. **

**I was rereading 'The Things They Carried,' the last book Gilbert read from his list. I realized that that was probably not the best thing to make Ludwig read out loud to Gilbert...not because it was poorly written or anything, because it was a very good book, but what the characters say...  
**


	15. A Time to Love and a Time to Die

**Anonymous Review Reply:**

**VelgaAltair: Ahh, I never watched 'How to Train Your Dragon' yet. 'Princess and the Frog' is definitely a very good Disney movie, but I felt like letting them choose Tarzan. It's overlooked quite a bit when it really is a good movie. I'm updating fast? I don't know, I'm updating the same time as always~ I think Ivan would be depressed and a bit indignant about watching 'Anastasia' because not only is it about his revolution, but it totally screws up history XD. The movie is actually from Warner Brothers, not Disney. Thanks for the review!**

**Just wanted you guys to know that after this chapter, there WILL BE THREE MORE CHAPTERS LEFT. A friendly reminder for you all…**

**Soundtrack: 'Stand in the Rain' by Superchick**

It had been an agonizing week.

Gilbert was growing so weak that he couldn't even lift his head off the pillow. He spoke in a whisper, so unlike his usual loud and bold speech. The only thing that didn't change was that lively spark in his crimson eyes and the crooked smile on his lips.

Elizaveta had been visiting Gilbert daily, from sunrise to moonset. She didn't even bother putting on makeup or clothes other than sweatpants and a T-shirt. There were times that she would completely forget to go home and fall asleep beside Gilbert, and Ludwig didn't have the heart to wake her up and remind her that she should go home.

"Do you need anything?" Elizaveta inquired as she drew another quilt over Gilbert.

"How's Gilbird?" Gilbert asked softly.

"He's out getting some sunshine with Ludwig," Elizaveta said. "Ludwig is taking good care of him."

"I know," Gilbert said. "He takes good care of everyone."

Elizaveta sat down next to Gilbert. She played with his white hair absentmindedly. Gilbert took her hand and kissed each fingertip softly.

"You look beautiful today," Gilbert murmured. Elizaveta blushed and squeezed his hand tight.

"Your hands are cold," Elizaveta commented. Even when he was under sheets all day, his hands felt cool.

"Warm them for me?" Gilbert teased. Elizaveta clasped his hand with both of hers and brought it to her cheek. Gilbert ran his fingers through her brown hair.

"It's as if you live with us now," Gilbert said. "You're always here."

"I always want to be here," Elizaveta told him. She glanced outside the window and noticed that gray clouds were forming outside. "I suppose it's going to rain soon. Ludwig should be back inside anytime now."

"Is he walking the dogs also?" Gilbert asked.

"I don't think so," Elizaveta said.

True to her predictions, the clouds began to cry. Outside, the rain was falling slowly, pelting the glass in a rhythmic beat like a drum. They could hear the raindrops on the roof as sharp as needles.

"Can you open the window?" Gilbert asked.

"You might get wet," Elizaveta warned him.

"It's all right," Gilbert muttered. "I haven't felt rain since the time at the boardwalk. That was a good time."

Elizaveta hesitated before slowly pushing the window open. The rain sang with its crystalline voice as it fell. Gilbert slowly reached out a trembling hand towards the window and caught the raindrops in his hand. He closed his eyes, breathing in the warm scent of freshly fallen rain.

"I don't know why people don't like rain," Elizaveta said. She extended her hand out as well and let the cool water soothe her skin. "It's quite beautiful, actually."

Gilbert withdrew his hand from the window and let it drop to his side. He didn't say a word, but Elizaveta could see it in his face. His arm had grown too weak to hold itself up anymore. He couldn't even lift it above his head. She took her hand back inside as well and closed the window. The rain glossed over the window.

She didn't know how long she stayed silent in Gilbert's bedroom, absentmindedly stroking his hair. He gazed up at her with his dark red eyes, his tongue too weak to speak. She hummed softly as she played with Gilbert's white hair, sometimes lying her head down next to his and just to be closer to him.

Elizaveta glanced at the nightstand and saw the notepad with the book titles written on it. All the books had been crossed out.

"You finally finished?" she asked.

"Mmhmm," Gilbert said, smiling. "Finally got through all of them. Though admittedly they were sad books."

"I told you that you should've picked happier novels," Elizaveta giggled.

"When did you?" Gilbert asked.

Elizaveta sighed. "I don't know if you remember, but it was the day I was reading to you about the sparrow. I don't think you do, though."

Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows. "It sounds really familiar. Sparrow..." He shook his head. "I don't remember, but I got this déjà vu feeling thinking about it."

"You don't remember any of the story?" asked Elizaveta.

"Zip," Gilbert admitted. "It must have been good though."

"I hadn't finished it," Elizaveta added.

"You haven't?" Gilbert asked. "How come?"

"There were some…conflicts we had to deal with," Elizaveta said noncommittally. "But that's all over now."

Gilbert licked his dry lips. "Can you tell it to me again?"

"All right," Elizaveta said, a little surprised.

"You're going to have to start over, because I don't remember anything," Gilbert told her. "Sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," Elizaveta assured him.

As Elizaveta spoke of stories, her voice hushed to a quiet yet powerful voice that didn't fail to express everything that Elizaveta pictured. It was magic in the form of words, twisting and morphing into shapes and sounds, blushing with color and life. Gilbert let himself sweep away from the gray world and sink into color and creation.

"The girl asked, 'What can I possibly do to help you?' The bird said sadly, 'There is nothing I can do. I am breaking my promise. I have left the forest's spirit.'

"'And you?' the girl asked fretfully.

"The bird stayed silent. It shook its head sadly. 'It does not matter. I am your friend forever and always. I will stay with you.'

"The girl was shocked. She didn't want to let the bird go, but she hated to see him in such pain. She held him close to her heart, feeling his small body shiver in her hands. She pressed a gentle kiss on the top of his head before opening the window.

"'Go back,' the girl whispered.

"The bird stared up incredulously at his friend. 'What do you mean?'

"'I meant what I said,' she murmured. Tears fell from her eyes and her heart was breaking, but nothing could turn her away from her choice. 'I don't want you to suffer anymore. Please, go back to the forest and live. Be safe and happy.'

"'But what about you?' the bird asked.

"The girl shook her head. 'I don't care about me. I want you to go back. Please, my friend. I'd rather live alone knowing that you are well and safe than keep you to myself and watch you suffer. I love you; that's why I'm letting you go.'

"The bird looked up at the girl with sad eyes. He brushed her tears away with his pale wing. They stood there in silence, letting the reality of it all sink in. They were going to be separated forever.

"'I will go,' the bird finally said. The girl smiled sadly at him before holding him out the window. The bird fluttered out of her hands and toward the forest. He turned back to bade her farewell, but she was already gone. The window shut, the curtains drawn, and the lights put out. The bird stared for a moment before turning away and flying home.

"'So long, my friend,' the bird whispered before disappearing from her world. 'So long.'"

Elizaveta's voice had sunk into a soft whisper at the very end. Gilbert was clutching tightly on Elizaveta's hand. He released his grip on her and let out a sigh.

"So in the end, they can't even be together, huh?" Gilbert said.

"It was their choice," Elizaveta added.

"Yes," Gilbert murmured. "Nothing forced them apart. It was—it was for the best, wasn't it? If the bird died with the girl, she would be plagued with guilt and sorrow. But I guess now she can live with some happiness, knowing that her friend is safe."

Elizaveta nodded. Gilbert turned his gaze towards the ceiling.

"Would you be able to do that?" Gilbert asked.

"Do what?" said Elizaveta.

"What the girl in the story did," Gilbert explained. "Let your only friend go forever?"

Elizaveta bit her lip. "I don't know. I honestly don't. I mean, right now I would say of course, but if I was in that situation—if I really was experiencing all this at that moment—"

Gilbert silently nodded and closed his eyes. Elizaveta turned to the clock.

"My mother wants me back home now," she said regretfully. Gilbert let out a weak chuckle and held her hand.

"Will I—" His voice faltered and for a moment he couldn't speak. He tried again, his voice very weak. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

"I have to pick up Mei from the airport early," she said. "I'll come right afterward, though. How about I call you right before I go?"

"What time would that be?" asked Gilbert.

"Early morning. I'm leaving seven o'clock. I can call you around six thirty in the morning," suggested Elizaveta.

Gilbert gave her a grin. "That would be the best way to start my day. I'll look forward to it."

Elizaveta giggled and rose from her seat, getting ready to leave. Just as she grabbed her car keys from the table, Gilbert called out to her.

"Wait," he said immediately. Elizaveta turned around. Gilbert was reaching out towards her, his arm shaking. She rushed to his side and took his hand. He reached out and pulled her into an embrace. Elizaveta was surprised at first but received it gladly.

"Drive safely," Gilbert murmured into her hair.

Elizaveta nodded and kissed him gently on the forehead.

* * *

"Why didn't anyone wake me up?"

Elizaveta was rushing to brush her teeth and pull on her pants at the same time. She was planning on waking up at six so that she would have plenty of time to get ready and call Gilbert. However, when she opened her eyes that Saturday morning, she saw the time read six fifty-one, giving her only ten minutes.

"You seemed so tired, and it's a rather long drive to the airport," her mother said apologetically. "I didn't think a couple extra minutes would hurt."

"Mother, fifty-one minutes is more than enough!" Elizaveta exclaimed, spitting toothpaste into the sink. "I was going to call Gilbert before I leave!"

"It'll be all right; you can talk to him after you pick up Mei," her mother pointed out.

"I promised him, though," Elizaveta said, crestfallen.

"I'm sure he'll understand," said her mother. "You better go now; it's seven o'clock."

Elizaveta flew around the house, kicking on her shoes and swiping her car keys from the kitchen table. She also took her cell phone. She flipped it open only to discover that the batteries were dead. It seemed ironic that her cell phone's battery was so weak. She threw it aside.

"Drive safely!" her mother cried as Elizaveta stomped onto the gas pedal and shot the car out of the garage.

Elizaveta couldn't help but feel irritation towards her mother. Why couldn't she have woken her up earlier? Now Elizaveta had to wait even longer to talk to Gilbert. She really hoped Gilbert wouldn't be too dejected when he realized she wasn't going to call him.

The airport was forty-five minutes away. She only hoped that her Taiwanese friend would not be too cranky at her because Elizaveta was late. Mei had gone to Japan for vacation and needed someone to drive her home, and Elizaveta had promised Mei that she would.

If she hadn't promised Gilbert that she would be a safe driver, she would've been zooming down the highways five times over the speed limit.

Once she ran into the airport towards the station where Mei was, she noticed that it was virtually empty. Her heart beat nervously as she checked her watch and the schedule that Mei had given her. It was about time that Mei's plane arrived. Why wasn't anyone here?

Elizaveta sat down on the plastic chairs bolted to the floor. For the first fifteen minutes, she supposed that the plane needed extra time to land safely because of the rain. After thirty minutes passed, she began to feel panicky and impatient.

"Excuse me," she finally asked a worker after forty-five minutes. "Do you know when Flight 13 will arrive?"

"Flight 13?" repeated the man. He typed on his computer. "Ah, Flight 13 had been delayed. There was a storm in the area before takeoff and they had to wait for it to clear. They should be here in an hour."

"Oh," Elizaveta said. "Thank you."

She felt slightly disheartened when she left the man at the counter. She could have gone to Gilbert's home first before rushing to the airport. Now she had to wait even longer; if she tried driving to the Beilschmidt house, it would take nearly an hour to reach there and then she would have to drive all the way back to pick Mei up. She rummaged through her purse for coins for a payphone, but she was completely out of cash.

An hour crawled by as slowly as sludge. Elizaveta spent the whole time wandering through the expensive gift shops, daydreaming about what more stories she could tell Gilbert when she returned to him. She even fell asleep on the chairs for fifteen or so minutes before Flight 13 finally landed and Mei finally entered the airport.

"I'm—so—sorry!" Mei shouted as she ran over to Elizaveta. "How long were you waiting?"

"An hour and a half," said Elizaveta, rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes.

"The plane got delayed for an hour," Mei said apologetically. "They thought there would be a thunderstorm coming but there wasn't. I called your phone but no one picked up so I left a message."

"It's dead," Elizaveta explained to Mei as Mei carried her bags to Elizaveta's car.

It was still raining; in fact, it was probably raining even harder than before. It wasn't a pretty rain either; the wind whipped the tree branches and the rain was dancing a frenzied dance, swirling like fog. Traffic was horrible and Elizaveta grew more and more impatient as the lines on the highway grew slowly.

"How was your trip to Japan?" asked Elizaveta.

"It was wonderful!" gushed Mei. "Kiku and I had a lot of fun together. Ooh, ooh! I've even got souvenirs for all of you!" She opened one of her bags and fished through her possessions. "Here's one for you!"

She showed Elizaveta a manga book. Elizaveta took a glance at it and gasped.

"Yaoi!" Elizaveta squealed, nearly crashing the car into the side of the highway.

"Careful!" Mei cried out. "Yes it is. I searched everywhere for the best yaoi book ever! Kiku was a lot of help. For some reason he knows a lot about it."

Elizaveta laughed. "Thanks, Mei. You're awesome."

"There's more!" Mei said as she returned to scavenging for souvenirs. "Here's one for your lovebird Gilbert."

She pulled out a large stuffed animal of a baby chick. Elizaveta burst out laughing at the sight of it. It was gigantic; Gilbert could probably wrap his arms around it.

"He'll love that," Elizaveta said. The thought of Gilbert made her even more impatient with the long traffic. The windshield wipers squeaked as the brushed the rainwater away from the glass.

"I even have things for Ludwig and Feliciano and Lovino and…"

As Mei rattled on, Elizaveta finally pulled the car out of the excruciating traffic jam. She pressed harder on the gas pedal as she raced towards their neighborhood. The wind had died down, so now it was just a matter of pouring rain.

"Are you going back to Ludwig and Gilbert's place after this?" Mei asked.

"Yup," Elizaveta answered as they finally entered Mei's neighborhood.

Mei stuffed their souvenirs into bright pink plastic bags and handed them to Elizaveta. "Could you take these to them then?"

"Of course," Elizaveta said. She pulled into Mei's driveway.

"Thanks so, so much!" Mei sang as she gathered her things and exited the car.

"You too!" Elizaveta said, waving the yaoi manga book. Mei laughed and hurried inside before the rain soaked her to the bone. Elizaveta made sure Mei went into her house safely before racing towards Gilbert.

Elizaveta glanced down at the digital clock on the car. She had been gone for several hours. She cursed the existence of traffic jams.

It took another ten minutes for Elizaveta to reach the Beilschmidt house. She parked the car in the driveway in a rather haphazard fashion before running to the front door, clutching the plastic bags of souvenirs that Mei had given them. She rang the doorbell, tapping her feet impatiently.

No one answered. Elizaveta sighed exasperatedly and rang it again. Finally, she heard a stir of life from within. The doorknob turned and tentatively swung open.

"Hey there, Ludwig!" Elizaveta said cheerily, stepping inside. "I'm so sorry I'm late; everything has been a complete mess today."

Ludwig didn't answer. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his hair was tousled, an unusual sight since he usually kept it neat.

"Hi Mr. Beilschmidt!" Elizaveta cried towards the kitchen. She frowned at the lack of response as she took off her shoes. "Is your father not here? He's not working again, is he? It's Saturday, after all."

"He's—not here," Ludwig croaked. His voice was heavy with tiredness. "Elizaveta—"

"That's a shame. He's always so busy, it seems. Oh! I have something for you!" Before Ludwig could respond, Elizaveta shoved Mei's souvenir into his arms. "Mei got it from Japan for you! She was really excited to give it to you."

Ludwig stared down at the plastic bag. He didn't seem able to speak at all. He shook his head and put it aside.

"Elizaveta, there's something—"

"She got one for Gilbert, also!" Elizaveta said happily. "Isn't it adorable?" She pulled out the giant chick from one of the bags. "It's like a gigantic Gilbird!"

Ludwig clenched his teeth at the sight of the bird. He paled and backed away. Elizaveta lowered the chick worriedly.

"What's wrong?" Elizaveta asked. "Say—how about we give this to him now? It'll cheer him up."

"He isn't here anymore, Eliza," Ludwig said in a strangled voice.

"Did your father take him to the hospital?" Elizaveta asked. "I'll just leave it in his room then." Elizaveta clambered quickly up the stairs.

"Eliza! Stop!" Ludwig cried before racing towards her. Elizaveta did not slow down; she pushed open the door to Gilbert's bedroom. It was empty as expected; the sheets were unmade and Gilbird was perched quietly on the nightstand. It didn't move or make a sound; it only stared up at Elizaveta with its dark eyes.

"I'll just leave it here to surprise him," Elizaveta said, placing the chick on top of his pillow. "He's going to love it—"

"Stop it!"

Elizaveta froze. Ludwig's head was bowed. He stood stiffly at the doorway, trembling. Elizaveta blinked confusedly before slowly reaching out to him. Ludwig swallowed hard, his breathing jagged.

"What is it, Ludwig?" Elizaveta asked.

"He's gone," Ludwig whispered.

Elizaveta frowned. "I know; you already told me—"

"You don't understand!" Ludwig cried out. He finally looked into her eyes, and suddenly Elizaveta could finally see the pain in them. She was washed over with chilling fear. "Gilbert is dead! He died this morning!"

Elizaveta felt as if an invisible hand stopped time completely. She could only stare at Ludwig as he backed into a wall, pressing a shaking fist against his mouth. Something gripped her heart, making every heartbeat excruciating.

"No," Elizaveta whispered. She shook her head vigorously. "That—that can't be true! He's not dead—"

"Father took him away," Ludwig said in a strained voice.

"You're mistaken," Elizaveta said desperately. She looked around desperately, as if expecting Gilbert to surprise her from under the bed or in the closet. "They went to the doctors. They're going to make him better. You just thought—you're tired, Ludwig. You should rest. You didn't hear or understand right."

"Stop it, Eliza!" Ludwig cried. "Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!" He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to breathe.

"Everything is fine, I know it is!" Elizaveta said hurriedly. Her head was spinning and she could barely stand still. She could feel her heart beating wildly in her chest, a frantic frenzy. She didn't understand death. She didn't know what it was anymore, but whatever it was it was not related to Gilbert in any way. "He'll come back, you'll see!"

"Don't," Ludwig begged, his voice coated with tears. "Don't do this, Eliza. Stop it—please—"

"Give them an hour or two—they'll be pulling right in that driveway—" Elizaveta jabbed her finger on the glass window that overlooked the front yard. He couldn't be gone. She needed to see him one more time. "—and Gilbert will c-come back and—and you'll feel so stupid for thinking that horrible—horrible—" Elizaveta's heart froze and for a moment her legs nearly gave out under her. She couldn't breathe.

"Seven thirty this morning, Eliza," Ludwig said in a trembling voice. "Seven thirty AM. You can't tell me that I didn't—didn't go into his room at that hour and find him—see him—" Ludwig sank to the ground, shuddering and pressing his hand to his mouth, trying to swallow down the tears. He suddenly began to weep before Elizaveta, unable to speak. She felt her whole body shaking, but other than that she was absolutely numb and cold. Then all of a sudden she felt everything roaring in her. Her heartbeat was heavy and hard against her chest. Her blood was racing through her veins and she could hear too much.

She just couldn't understand.

"He h-has to come back," Elizaveta whimpered. "He can't leave us now. I haven't—I didn't get to talk to him yet—" Her throat was locked and she could barely speak or see. Breathing became difficult as she gasped for air, her nose and throat coated with tears. "I didn't get to say goodbye."

At that moment, her heart shattered into countless pieces.

Elizaveta let out a strangled cry. She buried her face into her hands, breathing heavily. Stars were shattering. The moon was blacking out and the sun was imploding. Everything was dead. Everything was destroyed.

"I didn't say goodbye," she repeated painfully. "I was s-supposed to call him at six thirty—I could have talked to him one last t-time, but I didn't. I could have said bye to him then. I could have said—" Anything.

Was that how Gilbert spent his last moments? Dying in bed, waiting wistfully for the phone to ring but never hearing it? Did Gilbert know that today would be his last day? What if there was something he wanted to say to her, waiting for the chance but never given it?

She could have woken up earlier to call him. She could have dropped by his house to see him on the way to the airport. But she didn't.

And now she'll never speak to him again.

It wasn't fair.

She felt Ludwig hug her tight and she broke down. Her body shook violently as she clung onto Ludwig, burying her face into his neck. She was broken inside, caught behind a glass wall, left behind in the house in pieces.

"Bring him back, Ludwig," Elizaveta whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "Please, find him and bring him back."

Ludwig held her close, shaking as if cold. He squeezed his eyes tight. Every breath was a struggle, a painful reminder that he was alive and well but Gilbert was not.

"D-don't let them take him away!" Elizaveta begged. "I'll do anything. Please, I'll give up anything to bring him back!"

Ludwig didn't know what to say anymore. He cradled her head, trying to blink away the tears. He needed to be strong for both of them, to pull them out of their pain, but he felt so weak and powerless.

"Ludwig, we have to do something!" Elizaveta sobbed. "Ludwig, we can't just let him go!"

No matter how tightly Elizaveta clung onto Ludwig, she felt so cold and the empty hole in her heart would not close. The tears would not stop raining down.

This wasn't supposed to happen to Gilbert.

He was going to go to college. A prestigious university to follow his future.

He was going to become famous with his two friends and their guitars.

He was a big brother and a best friend.

He was gone.

A voice.

A dream.

A heart.

Silenced.


	16. One Flew East, One Flew West

**Anonymous Review Reply:**

**An Anonymous Person: I'm now a little concerned that you have some sort of mental image of me as a cold-hearted imp plotting in a dark and secluded computer room. I assure you that I do not aim for nor did I expect to make any of my readers depressed. I was surprised at some of the reactions that I got for the last chapter. I admit that I want to evoke emotion out of my readers because that is what stories should do; I never want to give them stale, plain, dry stories without emotion or heart. However, I certainly didn't want to make anyone despondent. Actually, I must disagree with you. I think that a writer's job is not just to satisfy the reader. I remember back in seventh grade my English teacher said that we write to persuade, teach, express, entertain, and/or to inform. An author's job is not solely to satisfy. If all writers or artists had to only dish out works that satisfied and left readers happy, I think that a lot of pieces of literature, plays, and movies would have a problem. I think it's safe to assume that audiences did not dwell in cheerful unicorns and butterflies after reading Night by Elie Wiesel, Ordinary People by Judith Guest, Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque, A Child Called It by Dave Pelzer, pretty much anything from Edgar Allen Poe or Emily Dickinson, and many more. Were those works sad to readers? Certainly. Did the writers 'enjoy' making their audience depressed? Highly doubtful; I'm sure that they did not solely intend to deject readers, but to express and to teach. **

**Tea Cup: Oh yes, I definitely recommend you read the books that Gilbert was reading. Ahh, good luck on your exams! I hope you do well. I'll probably have to start studying as well…thank you for reading and reviewing! **

**Wildkid: You are so sweet! I'm really glad that you enjoyed reading this story. Thank you for taking the time to read and leave me a comment!**

**VegaAltair: Haha, don't beat yourself up about it. Lots of people think it's from Disney...Well, here's the first of the three chapters, so you'll see what they're about~ Looking back at their romance moment in that chapter and chapters past, I realized I never made them have an actual kiss this entire story. Thank you for reading and reviewing!  
**

**Now I understand that there are many of you that are rather upset over Gilbert's death…I can't make any promises right now, so I won't bring it up, but I can say one thing. The ending will have closure to it. **

**A while ago I told myself that this would probably be the last Hetalia longshot I would ever write...and lo and behold, I suddenly started breeding plot bunnies. I can't say it would happen, nor do I know where this will end up, but if I do miraculously decide: 'Hey, I feel like writing Hetalia again even though it isn't historical (I prefer writing historical oneshots as opposed to longshots),' I'll give it a go. Just a heads up for you all...  
**

**Inspired by: Ordinary People by Judith Guest**

**

* * *

**_"That's what a story does. The bodies are animated. You make the dead talk. They sometimes say things like, 'Roger that.' Or they say, 'Timmy, stop crying," which is what Linda said to me after she was dead."_

_—Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried_

_

* * *

_It was a cardboard box.

Ludwig was surprised he even found it under Gilbert's bed.

He was surprised he was even in Gilbert's room.

This was his second time in this room since Gilbert's funeral. The first time was to check on Gilbird one morning. He usually kept Gilbird in his room while Gilbert was sick but the day after Gilbert's memorial service Gilbird was desperate to return to his old home.

That morning when Ludwig checked on the bird, he found Gilbird cold and dead in its little cotton bed.

Ludwig carried the bowl with the dead bird down the stairs to the kitchen. His father was there, sitting at the table and reading the newspaper, but Ludwig knew that Vatti really wasn't reading anything. He could barely do anything these days; he had lost his wife, father, and eldest son in the course of two years.

"Vatti," Ludwig said quietly.

Mr. Beilschmidt looked up from his newspaper. There were dark shadows under his eyes and he hadn't shaven in days. Ludwig remembered how on the day Gilbert died Mr. Beilschmidt did not cry. Even as Gilbert's body was returned to the ashes and dust, Mr. Beilschmidt was calm and composed. However, when they finally returned home and climbed up the stairs, Ludwig noticed that Gilbert's bedroom door was still open. Feeling a cold sense of resignation, he reached towards the doorknob to shut it.

"Don't!"

Ludwig jerked away from the door in surprise and turned towards his father. Mr. Beilschmidt was frozen in his place, his eyes wide with shock. Ludwig shoved his hands into his pockets and backed away from the door. Mr. Beilschmidt slowly made his way towards Gilbert's empty bedroom. He gazed inside, drinking in the blankets, the dresser, Gilbert's half-finished song for the band still on the writing desk, everything that Gilbert had left behind. He stood there for a long time, and it took Ludwig a while to realize that Vatti was crying. Tears silently fell down his face, glistening in the dim moonlight of the evening. He stood there as quietly and as still as a statue, unable to stop weeping.

Ludwig could only stand aside and stare shamefully at the ground. He could feel his throat lock up and his eyes burn. He wanted to reach out to Vatti, to comfort his father and have hope that they could make it through, but he couldn't. He didn't know how.

"What is it, son?" Mr. Beilschmidt said, folding the newspaper.

Ludwig looked down at Gilbird's body in the bowl. Mr. Beilschmidt's eyes followed Ludwig's and said nothing. There really wasn't anything for them to say.

"Shall we bury it?" Mr. Beilschmidt asked tiredly.

Ludwig nodded, unable to speak anymore. It was a rather rough and simple burial for the pet. They placed the bird, cotton balls and all, into a shoebox and dug up a small plot of ground for it. After the last bit of soil was shoveled over the box, Ludwig and Mr. Beilschmidt stared at the mound for a moment or two before finally returning inside.

They hadn't exchanged a word since then.

But that didn't matter. Vatti was always a silent man. Ludwig had inherited his lack of conversation from Vatti. It was Gilbert who was as loud and talkative as their mother. When Mother died, Gilbert faithfully kept the home chatty and alive. Now it was as silent as the grave, as if Ludwig and Vatti had died alongside Gilbert.

The second time Ludwig found himself in Gilbert's room was about a week since Gilbert passed away. He had wandered aimlessly through the week, tired and unresponsive. He couldn't remember what had happened after the funeral. Words might've been said, people might've visited, but all in all it was just a foggy blur.

It didn't matter to Ludwig anymore.

His big brother was dead.

Gilbert, the confident, laughing, free-spirited older brother, was gone.

The memory of that was a stab in the heart.

Ludwig closed the door behind him. He let himself be swallowed in by the photograph-covered walls and the Prussian blue carpet.

The entire room screamed Gilbert.

_Stab_.

Ludwig gazed all around him. There were notebooks filled with thousands of stories, songs, and whatever streams of consciousness Gilbert poured onto the pages sprawled across the cluttered desk, some still unfinished and will never be. There was a half-finished bottle of water on the nightstand next to the alarm clock, still set to ring at five in the morning. Ludwig never really knew why Gilbert set it so early, but Gilbert always had his reasons.

"I don't have time to sleep," Gilbert said, his voice a brittle skeleton of what it used to be. "Isn't there some sort of slogan for a coffee company about it? 'Life is short; stay awake for it.'"

It had rung loudly at five in the morning the day after Gilbert's death. Gilbert usually did a good job silencing it before Ludwig or Vatti awoke, but that day it blared like a rock concert in the wee hours of morning. Ludwig thought for a moment that he had just awoken from a horrible nightmare and he rushed towards Gilbert's room to yell at him to shut it off, only to enter an empty, desolate room.

There were the journals that Gilbert had throughout his eighteen years of life. They were old and shoved into the shelves until they refused to come out. Gilbert made Ludwig promise never to read them. Ludwig still kept it.

_Stab_.

A picture had fallen to the ground. The tape had become too weak and couldn't support its place on the wall anymore. Ludwig picked it up off the ground. It was a recent picture of Gilbert and Ludwig. Gilbert had tried to mimic Ludwig's hairstyle and used nearly half of Ludwig's hair gel bottle. They almost looked like twins in that picture except for their eye and hair color.

Gilbert was smiling so brightly at the camera. Even Ludwig was grinning. They were both trying to muss each other's smooth hairstyle.

Ludwig peeled off the dull piece of tape from the back. He found a roll of tape on Gilbert's desk and tore off four pieces. He positioned the picture carefully on the wall before taping down the edges. It rejoined the rest of the dusty memories showcased on the wall.

There were so many of them.

_Stab_.

As Ludwig gazed at all the pictures, he realized with horror that he didn't remember all of them. There were some memories that he could picture vividly as if they were yesterday, but there were others that he tried to grasp at, only to let it slip from his fingers.

He felt himself panic.

If he forgot them, were they lost forever?

If he couldn't remember a memory of him and Gilbert, would that mean that it was gone, vanished, inexistent?

Ludwig sat down on the carpet, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to remember.

What if he forgot about Gilbert? His laugh? His voice?

_Stab._

When he opened his eyes, he saw the box.

It was nestled underneath Gilbert's bed. Had Ludwig been turned perhaps a little bit to the left he wouldn't have ever seen it. He frowned and reached over to fish it out from under the bed. As messy as Gilbert was, he knew better than to shove his possessions underneath the bed.

The cardboard box looked vaguely familiar. The flaps were already torn open and inside were a video camera and three tapes. On each tape were names written on them.

Elizaveta.

Antonio and Francis.

West.

They were all in Gilbert's handwriting. Ludwig was a little confused at first. Why were there tapes with their names on them?

He then noticed the notebook paper wedged in between the tapes. Ludwig carefully slipped it out and unfolded it. When he read Gilbert's handwriting, he could feel nostalgia wash over him. His handwriting was shakier and more smudged than usual—as his illness grew worse, his handwriting grew weaker.

_West, if you're reading this, I'll have to remind you that you promised not to rummage through my stuff. Keep that promise or else._

_But if I'm already gone, then continue on._

Ludwig's heart skipped a beat at those words. He hurried on to read the rest. There were many sentences crossed out with dark scribbles of a pen, taking back the words Gilbert first wanted to say.

_Unfortunately I can't even hold a pen steady enough to write a long, legible letter, so I'm going to be quick._

_Those tapes are for whoever's name is on it. Simple as that. You have one for yourself, West. Please give the others to Elizaveta, Francis, and Antonio. _

_I'm sorry, West. _

The last word was very slanted and shaky. Ludwig supposed that Gilbert's hand had let out on him and kept him from writing anymore. Ludwig folded the letter and pressed it against his lips. He took in a deep breath before gazing down at the box.

He slowly pulled out the tape with his name written on it. What was in there?

Vatti wasn't home at the moment. The house was empty and silent. No one could hear Ludwig or the tape.

He pulled himself onto his feet and made his way down the stairs to the family room. He turned on the television and pushed the tape into the old VCR. His heart was beating wildly as he waited for the screen to come to life.

The black screen flickered and Ludwig's heart skipped a beat. It practically broke when he saw Gilbert on the screen, propped up by pillows. Gilbert was frowning at the camera as he tried to set it up on the bookshelf. When the recorder was finally steady, Gilbert let out a sigh and leaned back.

"Hey, West," Gilbert said, smiling. He paused and pursed his lips. "Not exactly sure how to do this, in all honesty. I mean, it's not like I've ever done anything like this before." He resignedly shrugged a shoulder. "It's supposed to be from the heart, I guess. I want it to be. It's just that….I'm going to mess up a lot on this video, I'm sure. I mean, I'll probably be stuttering lot and getting off topic a lot...but I don't want this to be scripted or anything. That's stiff." He frowned a little, his pale eyebrows knit. "I mean, I don't talk like I'm reading off of a sheet of paper ever. Why should this be any different?"

Gilbert bit the inside of his cheek. "It's…kind of funny, huh? We always watch in movies or read in books how a character's last words are all flowery and—and perfect. There's a better word for it—uh…flowery and…I don't know. If it comes to my mind, I'll say it. See? There it is. They always make it absolutely perfect. They don't screw up and take five minutes trying to think of the right word. Well, I guess it literally is scripted so it can't be helped, but seriously." Gilbert groaned inwardly before chuckling softly. "Well, I already got off topic. What can I say? I'm a pro at that.

"Okay, yeah, this is my first time ever doing anything like this. God, I suck at this. Crap—no—I'm not supposed to use the Lord's name in vain. Argh, I suck at this. Mmm. Well, you know me. Perfect little Saint Gilbert, setting a good example to little brothers of the world. Well…I hope I did. I hope I was a good big brother to you, West. I tried my best and gave it my all and I enjoyed every single moment of it.

"I reckon this will be a little…awkward for the both of us. I mean, here I am talking to the future you through a camera and there you are watching the past me. I guess this is the closest to time traveling we'll ever get."

He let out a soft chuckle. He sighed and became serious again.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm doing it this way. You know, taping myself," said Gilbert. "Well, if you haven't noticed, my handwriting has taken a turn for the worse. It would be rather ironic if the last letter from me was illegible.

"And…I considered telling this all to you in real life," admitted Gilbert. "I wanted to look you straight in the eyes right then and there and tell you everything I'm about to tell you now, but I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to do it. Because—because saying this at that time would mean letting you know that I think I'm going to die. I didn't want you to know that—not yet. I wanted you guys to have hope. _I _wanted hope."

Ludwig could feel his nose sting as he watched Gilbert close his eyes and run a hand through his white hair. Gilbert was silent for a moment before finally opening his eyes and speaking again.

"I'm really sorry, West," Gilbert said softly. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. He groaned and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He let out a small chuckle.

"Figures," he muttered. "When I'm on the spot, I can't think of the right things to say. Half of this video is probably going to be me humming and hawing for the right words." He rubbed his eyes and glanced up at the wall and grinned.

"Do you remember all of these, West?" Gilbert said. He picked up the camera from the bookshelf and pointed it towards a photograph. It was a photograph of Ludwig and Gilbert high up in a tree, waving down at whoever was the photographer. Ludwig realized it was one of the memories that he had painfully forgotten.

"That was a really sunny day, I remember," Gilbert said. "We were about eleven and twelve years old. Respectively, of course. Mama and Vatti took us to the really awesome forest in the middle of spring. We were pretending that we were explorers discovering new lands the whole time. Vatti let us carry around our wooden swords."

As Gilbert spoke, the memories suddenly flooded into Ludwig's mind again. He could smell the fresh forest, feel the sun on his skin, even hear the birds chirp in the distance. He remembered Mama and Vatti laughing as he and Gilbert raced ahead of them, waving their wooden swords. Warmth flooded Ludwig's heart.

"And then there was that huge tree that was perfect for climbing," Gilbert continued. "We refused to climb down for a long time. Even when Mama and Vatti threatened to leave we stayed up there. It wasn't until Vatti climbed up the tree and dragged us down did we come back to the ground."

The camera moved away from the picture and landed onto another one. In the photograph, Gilbert was laughing and pointing at the evening sky. Ludwig was gazing upwards in awe.

"This was at the picnic with the rest of the school," Gilbert said. "I told you that I saw a UFO in the sky and you got so shocked. I remember Alfred got extremely excited as well and he kept dragging you around looking for the UFO. I don't know if you ever figured it out or thought about it after that, West, but what I told you was a UFO was actually a really distant hot air balloon. But your face was priceless when I told you it was full of aliens."

Ludwig couldn't help but smile. He had forgotten about that until now. Leave it to Gilbert to trick his younger brother like that.

"Man…" Gilbert set the video camera back on the bookshelf facing him. "There are so many memories on these walls. If I had to go through every one of them, the video tape would be all used up and the camera would be out of batteries. Remember them for me, won't you?"

Ludwig felt a sinking sense of guilt when Gilbert requested that. He couldn't remember all of them. What was he to do?

"Though knowing you," Gilbert said, "with your mind equivalent to an old man's, you'd have blocked some of them out of your memory. Like this one." He pointed to the picture of Ludwig tied to the chair and Elizaveta trying to dress him up. Ludwig shivered at the memory. Out of all the pictures, that was the one he remembered with exact detail.

"So you can go into my journals if you like," Gilbert said. "I'm freeing you from your promise. You can read them. Just…I'm sorry if I write bad stuff about you, okay? There aren't a whole lot because I rarely ever get mad at you, but back when I was a tyke I had quite the temper.

"And I'm sorry for all those times that I annoyed or worried or pestered you," Gilbert added. "I probably gave you a lot of gray hairs. Sorry. You can always dye them if you want. But thanks for being so patient with me. Not many can do that.

"By the way…my money? You know, the one you didn't take even though I kept insisting that you should? You better take it now, West. In fact, I'm going to get Vatti to put it in your bank so you won't have a choice. Go and have that amazing trip in Italy. I know how much you want to go there; you've talked about it for years."

Gilbert flashed a victorious smile at Ludwig, as if teasing him because Gilbert had won the money fight. The lump in Ludwig's throat was throbbing now. He could barely breathe normally.

"Another thing on your bucket list," Gilbert said. "Mmm, I don't remember the exact wording of it. You wanted to uh, to help someone out in their time of need. Give or take a couple words. Well, West." He gave Ludwig a little nod and a sad smile. "You already have. If it weren't for you, I—I don't think I could've gotten through this. You made this a lot easier for me to bear. How you would always come to visit me and talk to me and—and read to me…" Gilbert's voice trailed away. He cleared his throat and continued, his voice a little tight. "You definitely helped me out in my time of need, West. Thank you."

Gilbert became quiet again. He bit the inside of his cheek and took in a breath.

"I'm sorry if you're sad," he whispered. "I hate it when I make people cry. I don't want you to be sad. Be happy. I want you to celebrate and laugh and have fun. Go out with Feliciano, drink some root beers with Arthur. Life is short, West, but also amazing and riveting and magical. Don't use it up being unhappy, especially if it's for me. I'm not gone forever."

Gilbert smiled at Ludwig, a smile of the past. A smile that knew a secret.

"I'm always with you, West." Gilbert suddenly started to laugh. "I sound cheesier than Francis's fondue. But I'm serious. You aren't going to get rid of me that easily. I'm watching over you and making sure that you're all right and happy. I'll be there when you finally graduate out of that high school. I'll be there when you're getting married to the love of your life. I'll be there whenever you want me to, whether it's a special day or just another afternoon. I'm already here with you right now when you're watching this. I am. Seriously. Take a look around."

Ludwig gazed around him. He wasn't sure why he did that. He knew that Gilbert was dead and gone, but something inside of him convinced him it was all a prank and that Gilbert would jump out from behind the sofa or even through the window and wrap him in a bear hug. He was greeted with only silent loneliness.

What did he expect?

"You may not see the awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt around you," Gilbert said, "but I am here. In all honesty, I don't know how God works this out, but I know that He'll let me watch over you. Maybe I'm like the Invisible Man and I'm tackling you right now. Who knows? I just know one thing; I'm there with you. Believe me, West."

Ludwig's throat hurt so much now. He could barely breathe because it was practically choking him. He wanted to hug Gilbert so much, hold him in his arms and just be with him.

"How do I say this?" Gilbert murmured to himself so quietly that Ludwig almost missed it. Gilbert set his jaw and closed his eyes. He took a couple breaths before finally opening his eyes at Ludwig again.

"I love you, West," Gilbert said softly. "You're the best brother anyone could possibly wish for." He reached his hand out to Ludwig and Ludwig did the same, half expecting Gilbert's hand to come and take his. Ludwig then stopped himself, remembering that he could no longer hold Gilbert's hand anymore.

"Don't forget that, okay?" Gilbert urged Ludwig. "Don't miss me, because you've got to remember that I'm always there for you, twenty-four seven."

And with that, the picture faded and the television screen became black and blank again.

The house was empty and silent. No one could hear Ludwig cry.

* * *

_I'm already there  
Take a look around  
I'm the sunshine in your hair  
I'm the shadow on the ground  
I'm the whisper in the wind  
I'm your imaginary friend  
And I know I'm in your prayers  
Oh I'm already there…_

_-Lonestar "I'm Already There" _


	17. As I Lay Dying

**Anonymous Review Reply: **

**Tea Cup: Aww, too bad. Many of those books are really good (I admit I haven't read all of them, but I have read most of them and watched the movie of one of them…) If that's the case, then I definitely recommend you read La Sombra Del Viento and All Quiet on the Western Front. 'All Quiet' is probably the most famous war novel ever, and not without good reason. It's about a German soldier during WWI. I'm really glad that you listened to those songs! They are very lovely, especially 'Hello Hurricane.' That song replaced my old favorite song from that band, which is no easy feat because the former favorite was a pretty awesome song. You should check out the band! It's good that this story made you think. Thank you so much for giving me your thoughts! By the way, I love your comparison of writing to baking, because ironically I love to bake~ Goat pillow? What do you mean by that? Will it be friends with my stuffed sheep? 8D **

**Heather: I feel kind of sad when you say it that way…D: In all honesty, I actually thought this chapter was _happier_ than the last chapter, but I suppose my definition of 'happy' isn't the same as other people's…but thank you for leaving me a comment! **

**VegaAltair: Well, this chapter answers your question~ :D I'll always keep updating~ Thanks for the review! **

**Krayon: Wahh, I'm very glad that you enjoyed reading my writings! Lonestar's song is rather sad, isn't it? But it also offers hope…I admit that when I wrote chapter 15 with Gilbert's death, I was thinking of my own grandpa as well. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**

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**_"And as a writer now, I want to save Linda's life. Not her body—her life."_

_—Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried_

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_Well, it was the day.

Happy tenth anniversary, Bad Company Trio.

Antonio was barely able to drag himself out of his bed that morning.

Right when the alarm clock rang and woke him up, he knew it was the day.

He knew what was missing.

Even before he opened his eyes, the first thought that ran through his head was, "Gilbert is dead."

He had been dead for about a week now, but Antonio still couldn't believe Gilbert was gone. He was like a yesterday—so close, yet so far.

His heart ached so horribly that he curled up into a ball under his sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. Nothing could stop the heartbreak, though. What words or deeds could ever make him feel better at a time like this?

How in the world was he supposed to face it?

He finally crawled out of bed around noon. He was home alone today. He didn't mind anymore. Normally he would have called Lovino or Francis or Gilbert to keep him company, but today was different.

Today it didn't matter if he was alone. He would still feel the same.

Antonio sat in his living room, staring at the Disney movies he had borrowed from Alfred.

Perhaps he should just return them.

Antonio wasn't sure if they would ever watch them now.

But Antonio was afraid to return them. In fact, he was afraid of stepping out of the house. The last time he left his house was for Gilbert's memorial service six days ago. It was at that time that he realized that he couldn't bring himself to be near anyone anymore. He saw classmates and friends in their little group of close companions; never separated, no one missing, everyone together. His heart had been filled with painful and mortified jealousy as he watched them wistfully from a distance.

What had he done to deserve losing his best friend?

Antonio remembered how the entire time while he was with Ludwig during that service, people would come up to the Beilschmidts and say, "I'm sorry for your loss," or, "He's in a better place now."

As if all that they had lost was a pet dog.

Antonio wanted to yell, shout, even scream at them. Who wanted their apologies and condolences? They certainly made no one happier. They didn't bring Gilbert back. They were just words. And what could words possibly do at a time like this? He didn't want to know how sorry someone was or how much they'll miss him. It only made him hurt even more. Those words grabbed him by the shoulder and vigorously shook him back to reality, forcefully reminding him that Gilbert was totally, undeniably dead.

What if there really was no heaven?

Antonio hated himself for thinking that. He always had faith in one, and believed with all his heart that there was one waiting for them, but now that he had his first experience with Death, when he saw it face to face but only from a distance as it stole his friend away, he was absolutely afraid.

Would he never, ever see Gilbert again?

He brought his knees to his chest and hid his face.

He didn't know what to do anymore.

No amount of crying or praying would bring Gilbert back. Was there any point?

And as if his prayers were answered, the doorbell rang.

Antonio frowned. He knew his folks wouldn't be back until a lot later. That only left Francis or Lovino. He pushed himself off the couch and opened the door.

Francis was at the doorstep. His eyes were as tired as Antonio's and his hair was unkempt. When he saw Francis Antonio threw his arms around him and hugged him tight. Francis squeezed back, not in any inappropriate or seductive way either. It was a desperate, heartbroken embrace.

"How are you?" Francis asked.

Antonio shrugged. There was no point in saying 'fine.' That would've been a blatant lie.

"Come inside," Antonio said, stepping aside so Francis could enter. Francis obliged, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him. "Do you want to eat anything?"

"I'm all right," Francis said. He dug his hand into the overlarge hoodie pocket. This was the first time in a long time that Antonio ever saw Francis wearing such clothes like sweatshirts and sweatpants. He pulled out a black videotape.

"What is that?" asked Antonio.

Francis took in a deep breath. "Gilbert left it for us."

"What?" Antonio said quietly.

Francis showed him their names written on the label. "Ludwig came over to give this to me," he croaked. "He said that it was for both of us."

Antonio took the tape into his hands. What was inside? He pursed his lips, his heart trembling with anticipation.

"Let's watch it," Antonio and Francis said in unison. They let out a small chuckle.

"Jinx, you owe me ice cream," Antonio couldn't help but say.

Francis smiled and turned on Antonio's television. Antonio fed the VCR the videotape. They climbed onto the couch and waited for the video to start.

The television came to life and Gilbert was on the screen. Antonio let out a little squawk of surprise and wistfulness at the sight of his friend. Francis put a reassuring hand on Antonio's arm.

"Hey, you two," Gilbert said, smiling. He opened his mouth but frowned and closed it. He tried again before letting out a chuckle. "Man, you'd think I'd get the hang of this already. But I still don't know how to start this." He rubbed the back of his neck contemplatively. "I thought I would have gotten used to the idea by now...I knew that sooner or later I would have to do something like this, but...but even so, I still-I still am not sure." He sighed and coughed into his fist. "I hope this isn't too much of a shock. Can you thank West for me for giving you this?"

Gilbert cleared his throat and took a sip of water from the bottle. He rubbed his forehead contemplatively before going on.

"I was going to give you two separate videos," explained Gilbert, "but it just didn't' seem right. Whenever I wanted to talk, it was always to both of you at the same time. Nobody was ever left out or kept in the dark. It was always the three of us; the Bad Company Trio forever and always. I wanted this to be like that also.

"Man, I can't believe it's been ten years since we met. A decade! That blows me away. Most of the time people would drift apart from their childhood friends, but not us. We stayed strong and we stayed together through the thick and thin. That's awesome. You know that, right? Ten years and we barely had any arguments. Ever! I seriously think we were all made for each other; we just fit so perfectly."

Francis's cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He didn't know why he was smiling. His best friend was dead. Cold and turned into ashes, dust and rock. However, seeing him and hearing his voice one last time broke his heart but mended his soul.

"We got into the craziest stuff together, didn't we?" reminisced Gilbert. "All those pranks and jokes and-and matchmaking-now _that's_ the life. Like that time we vandalized Arthur's entire yard with French flags. The look on his face was priceless."

Francis and Antonio let out a small chuckle. Arthur's face when he saw his entire house bedecked with the cursed French flag was one of absolute horror. Francis relished the sight of it.

"And that time one night we prank-called Lovino and Feliciano," Gilbert said, his red eyes sparkling. "Oh my goodness, Lovino pretty much _killed _you the next day, Antonio. But you've got to admit, his reaction was hilarious. You know it was worth it."

A smile tugged at the ends of Antonio's lips. He gazed hungrily at Gilbert's lively eyes. Now there was no longer life in those eyes; Antonio missed seeing the fire in them. He couldn't get enough of it; it was like he was trying to revive Gilbert by remembering his life and spirit, not the death he knew would come.

"You guys seriously made my life the best thing ever," Gilbert said. "When we were performing at the boardwalk and we were out in the rain, I knew for a fact that I was the luckiest bloke in the world to have best friends like you two. And the fact that you always visited me whenever you could—thanks so much. It made my days so much more endurable. More than just endurable, actually. I was happy."

Gilbert wiped his eyes and let out a watery laugh. He muttered something in German and then stopped himself. He shook his head.

"I never hid things from you," Gilbert muttered. "I've got to stop talking to myself in German." He let out a laugh. "I never hid things from you then, so I won't now. I just said—" He swallowed and pressed his hands against his eyes. "I just said that I promised myself not to—to cry during this. No. I won't." He took in a deep breath and took his hands away from his face. "The last image you have of me will be happy and awesome, like before. And I am happy. And awesome, but you already know that."

Francis gripped Antonio's shoulder tighter. Antonio was shaking like an injured bird. Francis bit his lip, urging himself not to cry as well.

"I don't know if this will get to you before or after our tenth anniversary," Gilbert admitted. "If it's after, then thank God. We must have had a blast. Even if we didn't totally trash Arthur and Alfred's party and sat around in a dark basement or something like that, I know it was a great time, because just being with you two makes everything so much better. If it's before…" Gilbert sighed. "I'm really sorry. Damn, I must have put a damper on that day, didn't I?" Gilbert rubbed his forehead and smiled. "But that doesn't matter. I may not be there physically in a way you'd like, but I am still there spiritually. Go on and enjoy that day. It's an occasion that deserves an amazing time. No tears, no sadness, none of that crap. Just because I'm not around physically doesn't mean that the entire celebration is lost. It's still our tenth anniversary. And it will still be our eleventh, and twelfth, and so on. I haven't stopped being friends with you two.

"Besides," Gilbert said. He paused for a moment to clear his throat. "I'm going to celebrate it with you. Don't think that I'm gone for good. I'm like Arthur's little fairy friends, I guess. If you believe me, you will know I'm with you. You know...'I do believe in fairies, I do! I do!'" He gave a small chuckle and a small shrug. "Every time you say you don't believe in fairies, a fairy drops dead, right? But if you believe in them..." He shook his head and let out a laugh. "We definitely have watched 'Peter Pan' too many times. But it's true, isn't it? Takes a little faith and trust. Believe me; I will always be there for you two.

"As for the band," Gilbert said slowly. "I don't mind if you guys replace me with another kid. Your skills are way too awesome to be thrown away. Keep on rocking, you two. But if you don't want to continue the band, that's fine with me also. Do what makes you happy. That's all I want."

Gilbert drank some water to soothe his dry throat. He coughed and wiped his lips before continuing.

"Francis, you have made my life so interesting, I don't know where to start," Gilbert laughed. "You certainly opened my eyes to see things in a really strange way. It was so fun, though. I love how we could talk about anything and not feel awkward about it. We talked about everything there was in the world to talk about, didn't we?

"You also made me a blubbery, romantic fool, you twat," Gilbert added cheerily. "If it weren't for you and your little nudges, I may have never admitted my feelings to Eliza. I really have to give you huge thanks for that one. You're right; I am a hopeless, pitiful, lovesick duck. Thank God I had you to help me."

Francis chuckled softly. He remembered how Gilbert was so frustrated with his mixed feelings for Elizaveta and how Francis had to shove him towards the right direction.

"Antonio, you are no doubt the nicest fellow I was fortunate enough to meet," Gilbert said. "You're so sweet to everyone. Man, I wonder how you got paired up with the two of us delinquents." He paused, trying to think of the right words to say. "Whenever I was in a bad mood, whether I was angry or depressed, you always managed to make the day brighter. Your happiness is seriously contagious. Don't let that die.

"You better marry Lovino, kiddo. You better have an awe-inspiring wedding full of churros and tomatoes. Francis will be your best man and you _will _wear the pants in that relationship because Lovino has got you whipped. You and Francis better laugh and drink wine and have a hell of a time. And you both better remember that I'm squeezing into your little circle. I'm going to rejoice with you."

Gilbert's smile was so wide that there was no denying that it was genuine. It was strange to see that the one who was suffering and dying was so sincerely happy.

"You two are the most incredible friends in this whole world, past, present, and future," Gilbert said. Tears were streaming down his face but he kept on smiling, almost laughing. "I hope you knew that before. I wish I could have said it to you two face-to-face." He wiped his cheeks and swallowed hard. "All the tears are building up and now I can't—can't stop them—" He paused and coughed, constantly trying to dry his eyes. Francis could feel a sore lump in his throat. Gilbert looked like a small boy as he wiped away the tears, painfully reminding Francis how young Gilbert truly was and how much of life he would never experience.

"But—but it's not because I'm sad," Gilbert said defensively, his voice thick. "I'm not sad. I'm so, so, happy. Because of you two and West and Eliza and pretty much everyone that I ever met in my life, my life has been the best thing there ever is. It doesn't matter if it's a little shorter than usual; I'd rather live a short life with all of you than a lengthy one without. I'm serious—" Gilbert coughed again and he took in deep, shaky breaths. The tears would not stop coming, but the smile did not fade one bit.

"Live life loud, you two," Gilbert said, giving them a thumbs-up. His dark red eyes were shining with tears and precious, precious life. He reached towards the camera and turned it off. The screen became black. The room was silent.

"Antonio?" Francis said weakly.

Antonio was shaking uncontrollably. His knees were drawn to his chest and he wrapped his arms around them. He buried his face into his knees and sobbed. Francis hugged him as the tears flowed from his eyes. Antonio let go of his knees and turned to hug Francis so tight that he nearly choked the air out of him. Who knew how much time had passed?

"No," Antonio said in a muffled voice thick with tears. "We're not supposed to cry. We're supposed to be happy. Gilbert would—Gilbert would be upset."

Francis nodded wordlessly and wiped the tears away. It was so hard to be happy now. How could they get through this?

Antonio was singing softly under his breath. Francis could barely hear it, but he immediately recognized what Antonio was singing.

"_Hello Hurricane, you're not enough_," Antonio crooned in a delicate voice. Warmth flooded inside Francis as the words entered his mind. He brought Antonio closer just so he could hear the words clearer and let their truth strengthen him. "Hello Hurricane, you can't silence our love_—"_

_"_We've got doors and windows boarded up," Francis continued, closing his eyes. _"_All your dead end fury is not enough_—"_

_"__You can't silence our love__," _the two sang together.

For a moment they thought they could have heard a third voice singing with them as well.

* * *

_And now you know the sound of my heart  
When it hits the paper  
There's no more mystery here  
This is the last song_

_I remember when we first became a band  
We'd set up in the bedroom, practice all night long  
I remember when we used to now and then  
Keep the neighborhood up from the sound of our guitars_

_I remember when we'd all hop in the van  
Turn the radio on, we were off to see the world  
Wake up at ten to do it all again  
Till the sun goes down 'cause this is all we know_

_This is the last song, the last song  
So everybody sing along, this is the last song  
This is the last song, the last song  
So everybody sing along, this is the last song_

_-Thousand Foot Krutch "The Last Song"_


	18. Every Lament is a Love Song

**Anonymous Review Reply:**

**The Krayon: Ahh, glad that you checked! I always update on Thursdays…and I would announce that again now but this is the last chapter so there really isn't any point…Antonio is absolutely adorable and it really hurt to make him sad, but that is how it would be, wouldn't it? Life doesn't always go smoothly even to the kindest people…I'm really glad that you like the song 'Hello Hurricane' now! It is my favorite song from my favorite band~ The lyrics are very uplifting. Thank you for the review!**

**There is a SLIGHT possibility that I may write another Hetalia story after this one (not counting historical oneshots; those just come out of the blue). If I do write it, it would have no affiliation with this story or Tancol? so if Prussia was one of the characters, he wouldn't be the same Prussia as in this story. Keep an eye open for my name~  
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****_This chapter is dedicated to all my readers who followed through with this story and all the characters until the very end. Thank you. _**

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* * *

_**_"Once you're alive, you can't ever be dead."_

_—Tim O'Brien, The Things They Carried_

_

* * *

_Elizaveta was afraid to watch it.

She stared at the tape in her hands. She found it in her mailbox with a brief letter from Ludwig explaining what it was. Gilbert's last words for her.

She turned it over in her hand and clenched her teeth.

If he had already prepared his last words for her, did that mean he knew for a long time that he was going to die?

She supposed that everyone had that thought deep in the darkest, dustiest corner of their mind, but no one wanted to drag it out into the open.

Especially her.

Elizaveta hugged the tape to her chest. Was she mentally prepared for this?

It didn't matter to her whether she was or not. She _needed _to know what Gilbert wanted to say to her, what he might have said to her had she called before she left her home that fateful day. Her heart still ached at the memory of how unforgivable time could be. She turned on the television, inserted the tape into the VCR, and waited.

The television came to life and Gilbert was before her, sitting up in his bed. Elizaiveta felt pain inside her at the sight of him. Had it really been a week since she had last seen him alive and well? It felt like years, lifetimes even.

"Last one," Gilbert muttered to himself. He breathed in, breathed out, and continued.

"Hi, Eliza," he said, waving. "I hope you're doing all right. I don't know when you'll get this, but—" He suddenly frowned and leaned in forward. "What? The camera's running out of batteries? What the heck, I just charged this thing!"

Elizaveta couldn't help but laugh. Typical Gilbert.

"Stupid machinery," Gilbert muttered. He sighed and shrugged. "I'll be fine. I'm not going to take an hour or so to do this."

It was as if he was right there in Elizaveta's room talking to her. He was alive again. She tentatively reached out and placed a hand on his. Her fingers met with static.

"I am going to be blunt," Gilbert said. "You are the most wonderful girl in the entire universe. I've known that for ages upon ages, and I want you to know that too. The fact that you came to visit practically every day when I was in the hospital, and then when I came home to die you still stayed by my side—it makes me wonder if I deserve any of that. I mean—I was pretty crappy to you back in the good ol' days, am I right?

"I guess you're wondering why I chose this way to talk to you instead of through a sappy letter or something else," Gilbert said casually. "Well, I can't write legibly to save my life anymore. In fact, I don't think I ever could write legibly. And…" Gilbert paused and bit his lip. "I heard that if someone has been dead for a while, you forget their voice. I didn't want you to forget."

Elizaveta knew that even if Gilbert didn't make the video, she could've never been able to forget his voice.

"You know, every now and then I would think back to the time we met," Gilbert said. "It amazes me how it all fell upon chance to bring us together. If you didn't throw that water balloon on that dog and start running away, or if you ran the other direction, or if you didn't throw the pinecone at my head, or if I wasn't outside playing—I think you get my point. Anyway, if all those events didn't collide together so perfectly, would it have been possible that we would have never met?"

Elizaveta shivered at the thought. She couldn't imagine life without Gilbert Beilschmidt. He _was_ her life.

"Someone once told me…that everything happens for a reason," Gilbert said slowly. "That our whole life was planned out already, laid out like a roadmap. That everything we do is going to affect us greatly in the future. Everyone we meet has their part in shaping our lives, to help us learn more about ourselves or to grow into the person we will become."

He frowned slightly. "I don't know if that's true or not. Fate, destiny, all that jazz, I am still a little unsure of it. But even so, I can't deny that meeting you has turned my life around. And it happened all because we were so lucky to come together. Maybe it's fate, maybe it was luck. Or an answer to my prayers. I don't know if I became a better person than I was before, but I know that because I was so fortunate to meet you, I have definitely changed."

Gilbert paused and began to laugh softly.

"I sound so cheesy, don't I?" Gilbert sighed. "I don't care anymore. It's all right to be cheesy now. It's the truth. Cheesiness comes from the heart, doesn't it?" He leaned back against the wall and his face became serious.

"I also want to say that I'm sorry for being a total jerk back in the day," Gilbert said solemnly. "Francis likes to say that my being an idiot was my way of expressing undying love. Maybe that's true. But I do know that I got you really, really riled up, so sorry for all the unnecessary stress and anger I had to give you."

"Whoah..." Gilbert said, gazing out the window. He reached over and took the camera off its perch, recording the sky outside. It was a deep, rich sky blue with white downy clouds. Elizaveta could see the thin, cloudy trails left behind by flying airplanes up above.

"It's such a beautiful day," Gilbert said. He opened the window and extended the camera further out. "You know, it would be pretty funny if I dropped this thing. Depressing, but funny nonetheless." He breathed in the warm summer air.

"You know what this day would be good for?" Gilbert said. "Skydiving. Look at the sky! It's an endless blue. The clouds look like I could jump on them. Everything looks beautiful today. Everything is so alive. The grass and trees are greener. The sunlight is warm and sweet. Heck, it's a great day to just be alive, really."

Gilbert took the camera away from the window and replaced it on the bookshelf.

He reached towards the edge of the bed and with great effort pulled an acoustic guitar to his lap. The instrument overwhelmed him, but he managed to position his fingers on the strings.

"I thought that maybe, for one more time, I could sing to you again," Gilbert said softly. He strummed the chords lightly, his eyes closed. Elizaveta immediately recognized the song and she ached terribly inside.

_"She sits across the room_

_I can't hear what she says_

_But I can see how her green eyes gleam_

_And how her laughter spreads_

_I can't get it out of my head_

_Because it's my favorite song_.

_Green eyes, can't you see_

_The green-eyed monster you make out of me_

_When you're with your other friends?_

_It's plain enough to see_

_That the girl I once rejected_

_Is now the girl of my dreams_

_But I'm too proud to say, so I pretend_

_That she means nothing to me_

_She's my worst enemy_

_And my best friend_

_She drives me up the wall_

_Our quarrels never end_

_She always makes me upset_

_She's such a pain in the neck_

_And every time we meet_

_My heart skips a beat._

_Oh, Eliza, if only you could know_

_How I really feel about you. _

_Oh, Eliza, why can't you see?_

_What you're doing to me…_"

He slowly put the guitar back down to the ground. His face was serious now.

"Could you please—could you take care of West and Vatti for me?" Gilbert asked quietly. "I feel like crap for leaving them. After Old Fritz and Mama—they're really strong, but I don't want them to be any more hurt than they should.

"And you too," Gilbert added. He took in a deep breath. "I want you to be happy. So when I die, I want you to get over me and then fall in love again. You can take as much time as you want, but please don't be sad for so long. Remember: life is so beautiful; relish every moment of it. Go and live the rest of your life as free and as happy as you want. Get married—you _better_ get married because you're way too awesome to stay single. Whoever that extremely lucky man is, give him my best wishes."

Elizaveta shook violently. She didn't want to think of the future. She didn't want to forget about Gilbert so soon and think about getting married to a faceless, nameless stranger.

Gilbert opened his mouth to speak but then closed. He tried to speak, but it came out stuttered and jumbled. He chuckled softly.

"My tongue is tied now," Gilbert sighed. "I don't know what to say. You've got to leave me behind, Eliza. Remember me, but you should move on. Do you love me enough to let me go?"

Elizaveta swallowed hard and put a hand to her heart. She loved him, but to let him go was a very different story. It required strength that Elizaveta didn't know if she had. It required a kind of love that was almost unfathomable.

"I love you, Eliza," said Gilbert. His red eyes were gleaming; they looked absolutely beautiful. "I'll always love you, until the end of time. I promise."

He closed his eyes. A single tear trickled down his cheek. He gave her one last smile before disappearing from the screen.

Gilbert was dead again.

Elizaveta gulped for air as hot tears flooded her eyes. She closed them, letting the silky tears slide down her face and collect on her chin. She hugged herself, trying to fill the empty void where Gilbert should've been. How is it that she would never hug him again?

_Do you love me enough to let me go?_

Such a simple question that was so hard to answer.

She loved him so much that she didn't want to let him go; that was the problem.

"Gilbert?" she whispered into the emptiness.

She took in a deep breath, letting the silence fill her in.

"Please give me strength," she said, her voice trembling. It was barely above a whisper. "Please watch over me and help me get through this." She swallowed and it hurt her throat. "I want to let you go, but you've got to help me. I-I don't know how to do this myself…I'm not—I'm not strong enough."

She reached a hand out above her head, as if she could grasp his hand.

"Help me let you go, but please always be with me," Elizaveta sobbed. "In spirit, in my heart, in my memory. I don't want to forget you." Her throat throbbed and her eyes stung badly.

"Oh God, I miss you," Elizaveta choked out. "I miss you so much." She fought to breathe, the air tearing at her throat. "I want you here by my side." She leaned her head against the bed, letting the tears stream into her hair. "I'm so weak right now. Give me strength, Gil. Carry me through this.

"It hurts that you're gone," she murmured. "It hurts a lot, almost to the point where I feel numb. But I know this…I'd rather have had my brief years with you and all the pain that comes with losing you than to have never met you at all. I love you."

Elizaveta could see Gilbert in her dream, or her imagination, or from willpower. He was grinning at her and holding her hand. She couldn't tell where they were, but they were somewhere that was carefree and beautiful. He was laughing and so was she. Their voices echoed in her ears like a lullaby. He took both her hands and spun her around, twirling in the green grass and dry leaves. They were in a world where there was no pain or death or hospitals. They were free and young and happy. They were forever. They were spinning, twirling, laughing, singing, and as they finally let go of each other's hands, Elizaveta fell back into reality.

She opened her eyes to the blue darkness of the room. There was no sunlight anymore. No green hills, no laughter, no dancing, yet it seemed so indescribably real.

What would happen if she let him go?

Would she forget about him? Thirty years from now, would she still remember him?

_This is where the healing begins._

_In letting go._

Elizaveta froze. She didn't move because she knew that if she tried looking around her, she would see nothing. Yet she knew that the voice was unexpected, something she did not conjure herself.

_Don't be afraid._

She closed her eyes and laid her head back down, lifting her hands up in prayer. She breathed in slowly, peace flooding her.

_Everything will be okay._

She swallowed hard, nodding blindly. She would be strong. She would carry out Gilbert's wish.

"I promise," she whispered so softly that even she could barely hear it, but it was loud enough for the angels.

Gilbert was dead. She couldn't deny that. But even so, he was alive in this world still. He was the sunlight, the sound of laughter, the stars, in her heart.

Forever and always.

_I love you, Gilbert._

_Enough to let you go. _

_

* * *

__The flowers cut and brought inside  
Black cars in a single line  
Your family in suits and ties  
And you're free_

_The ache I feel inside  
Is where the life has left your eyes  
I'm alone for our last goodbye  
But you're free_

_I remember you like yesterday  
Yesterday  
I still can't believe you're gone  
Oh I remember you like yesterday  
Yesterday  
And until I'm with you, I carry on_

_Adrift on your ocean floor  
I feel weightless numb and sore  
A part of you and me is torn  
You're free_

_I woke from a dream last night  
I dreamt that you were by my side  
Reminding me I still had life  
In me_

_I remember you like yesterday  
Yesterday  
I still can't believe you're gone  
Oh I remember you like yesterday  
Yesterday  
And until I'm with you, I carry on_

_I'll carry on, I'll carry on_

_Every lament is a love song  
Yesterday, yesterday  
I still can't believe you're gone_

_Every lament is a love song  
Yesterday, yesterday_

_So long my friend, so long_

-Switchfoot "Yesterdays"


End file.
